


Edge of Doom Part 3: Stationfall

by Golm_Fersve_Dra



Series: Edge of Doom: A Bothan Story [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Bothan, Coruscant (Star Wars), Eriadu, Gen, Kashyyyk, Mandalorian, Multi, Murkhana, Planet Naboo (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:42:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 33,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25240318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Golm_Fersve_Dra/pseuds/Golm_Fersve_Dra
Summary: As the Clone Wars intensify, Mandalorians enter the picture, and the Tarkin family's plans for revenge swing into action. An unlikely hero enters the fray as Clan Askar faces its gravest threat.With all goodwill from the Bothans erased by the genocide of Ohma-D'un, an even graver danger threatens the Separatist Shadowfeeds. Will the Bothans be able to stop the Galactic atrocities on the cusp of being unleashed?
Series: Edge of Doom: A Bothan Story [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1821361





	1. Ditmas Shar

Thellus Asteroid, Dressel System

13 ArS (22 BBY)

Ditmas was almost surprised when the Bothans let his ship dock on Thellus. Bothans were often very suspicious of humans. With the Separatists now blaming them for Ohma-D'un, their entire species was practically on edge.

The paled skinned red-haired Mandalorian and his sister Baci walked to the airlock in civilian clothes.

" _Nu'ni_ _emuuri ibic."_ [I don't like this,] Baci muttered bitterly in Mandalorian.

_Verd ori'shya beskar'gam._ [A warrior is more than armour,] Ditmas retorted dismissively with one of his typical Mandalorian warriorisms. [Besides, we _have_ our armour. It's just coming separately.]

[Ditmas, we don't have it. It is arriving in thirteen days. We will be here, on this asteroid, for thirteen days without weapons or armour. Not only is it blasphemy to abandon our armour like this, but it is extremely reckless—]

[—Sister, there is no chance the Bothans will let us onto their station armed. Now, let me do the talking.] Ditmas hesitated for a moment at the air lock. Uncomfortable with his sister's continuing unease, he added, [they are _only Bothans_.]

[Even being uncovered as mercenaries would put us in peril Ditmas. Mercenary work is illegal in Bothan space under penalty of death. Of all the kriffing Bothans in the Galaxy, these Askars are the ones who sharpen their teeth and whiten them, all to look more ferocious. Hell, they used to eat Dresselians! Without armour or weapons, they can devour us!]

[Enough,] Ditmas barked impatiently. [We are Mandalorians! They sharpen and whiten their teeth to look more ferocious because, deep down, these Askars are every bit as weak, cowardly, and pathetic as the rest of their miserable race. This mission will go as planned.]

[There are twenty-six _million_ Askars on rock,] Baci scoffed.

[No, there are twenty million,] Ditmas corrected. [There are six million humans living here which will make our job easier.] Adding a confident [we will fit in perfectly,] he pressed the button to open the airlock.

As the airlock opened, the overwhelming stench of motor oil, welding fumes, ozone, and the musk of twenty million Bothans poured in. Ditmas groaned. Even with the air filters of Thellus, the smell was far worse than the interior of even the poorest Bio-Cubes on Mandalore.

Two Bothans and a human stood immediately outside the airlock. One Bothan was dark-furred, the other was creamy-coloured; all wore police uniforms.

Ignoring the smell, Ditmas blinked in shock at the Thellus human's hair style—his beard and hair were styled to look like a Bothan mane. _All right, maybe we won't fit in perfectly…_

"Good afternoon," the creamy furred Bothan growled as she sniffed the air curiously. "What brings you to Thellus? We do not get many visitors from Arkanis."

"We are attending the Futures' Symposium," Ditmas answered confidently, brandishing his datapad with his invitation. After handing it over, Ditmas pulled out his ID.

"Two weeks early?!" the dark furred Bothan growled with deep suspicion as she looked at his datapad. In the low gravity, the Bothan's facial and neck fur swirled and rippled to the point where even Ditmas could notice, although, the Mandalorian had no idea what the rippling meant.

"Indeed," Ditmas answered. "An extended stay is an excellent time for me to finish writing without the distraction of students. This is my research assistant, Norra."

"Research Assistant?" the cream furred Bothan growled accusingly. Both Bothans began sniffing the air surreptitiously.

_What if they can smell that she's related to me?_ Ditmas thought in alarm. _Their sense of smell can't be that good can it?_

"She does look _a lot_ like you," the human cop muttered, looking suspiciously at the Mandalorians himself.

"Coincidence, I assure you," Ditmas said with mild affront.

"You are two weeks early," the cream furred one pointed out again. "Where will you be staying on Thellus for two weeks?"

Ditmas was taken aback by that question. While he had been a hired gun since age thirteen, he was quite new to being undercover. "We will stay on the ship for now, if that's permitted. We might stay in a hotel, should I decide to get maintenance done on the ship—If that's not a problem for you Bothans."

The Bothan hmm'd neutrally, handing Ditmas his datapad back. "Your manifest says eight humans are disembarking. Where are the other six?"

"The other attendees are inside," Ditmas explained.

"Why are you speaking for them?" the human cop asked suspiciously.

"I'm not," Ditmas muttered. "Since it's my ship, I decided to come out with my research assistant to make things… _simpler._ Simpler for you."

"Well, thank you. Now can we meet the others?"

* * *

The eight highly suspicious Mandalorians with Arkanis IDs now sat at a tapcafé in the Gal'skar Docks District, two blocks away from where their ship was docked.

"See, told you it would be fine," Ditmas said confidently.

_"Ni nu—"_ [I don't—], Akapu Dest started.

"—Speak Basic you fool!" Ditmas whispered harshly. "At least not until stage four commences."

"Sorry sir—I mean, just sorry." Akapu exhaled. "Sorry I forgot."

"We are in too deep right now for mistakes," Ditmas muttered. He looked around. Four Bothans at two different tables had their ears perked up and were staring. "Kriffing great."

It was Pul Mibort's turn to be indiscreet. "Should we tell the admiral—"

"—Maybe we should just all wear signs for them to see," Baci muttered cynically, looking around at the staring Bothans.

"I mean… Prime. Should we tell Prime that we are…" Pul's voice died as he too noticed the staring Bothans.

"They are probably just curious," Taekidethay Yupor said optimistically. She brushed her white hair out of her eyes. "We are strange to them."

"Sure, that's what's going on," Ditmas groaned cynically. "Exactly what's going on."

"All right," a Bothan waiter growled upon approaching their table, "I got one Corellian sunshine, two Port in a Storms," the Bothan's fur swirled and rippled upon mentioning those drinks, "and some papitach wafers. Is there anything else you require?"

Ditmas took his Port in the Storm and said "no, thank you." He was surprised that such a strong Parmathe drink was served anywhere in Bothan space. He took a sip and coughed angrily. "THIS TASTES LIKE WATER!" he yelled, pounding the table dramatically.

The Bothan's fur seemed to compress into her body.

_A defensive reflex,_ Ditmas realised to himself. _When afraid, Bothan fur flattens and become tight. Almost like a shield… Interesting._

"I esh sorry," she began stammering in a mix of nervous Askar Creole and Basic. "We mix it with water because the beverage esh so hazardous. You must understand. Esh the law, kiz?"

Ditmas snorted at both her accent, which he found hilarious, and at the fact the Bothans outlaw pure Port in a Storm. _Now that sounds like Bothans_. "All right, all right," he chuckled. "Thank you for telling me miss." He took another cautious sip. If he held the beverage in his mouth for a few seconds before swallowing, he could perceive the aftertaste of a Port in a Storm.

"This Corellian Sunrise tastes like rice wine," Taekidethay grumbled.

"It _is_ made from Ghoba rice," the waiter growled nervously. "Nokiz can grow a huge variety of crops here, yeah?"

"These wafers are good," Baci said with a smile, crunching on another, "thank you."

"Glad to hear it!" the waiter said with a smile. Her fur seemed to now jiggle.

As the waiter walked away Baci began whispering harshly. "You kriffing idiots. We are university professors, economists, and research assistants not Outer Rim brawlers. You are intimidating them!"

"She's right," Ditmas sighed. "We need to act weaker!" he exclaimed in sudden realisation.

"Uh…" Pul muttered, tilting his head to the right.

The Bothans were still staring at them.

* * *

Aboard the freighter, the holopresence of Titus Tarkin stood on Ditmas's desk. Titus held his hands behind his back, standing tall.

"Admiral," Ditmas said wearily, "we are here, mostly without incident. The Bothans are a bit suspicious."

"Ah, that is to be expected," Titus said consolingly.

"Respectfully sir, my crew is getting restless. Asking Mandalorians to sit around on a station for two weeks—"

"I am paying you for the entire duration of your stay!" Titus exclaimed incredulously. "You can live like kings if you want."

"Respectfully, Admiral," Ditmas said sternly, "I understand the mission. The grave assault on your honour by the Askars—hell, if they had done that to me in your position, I would have hired Mandalorians too. The mission details though make no sense. Why are we here for two weeks? Why—"

"—You are being paid at double your normal rates during your stay, even when you are not in combat. Is that not enough?" Titus asked.

"It's the best deal we've ever had," Ditmas admitted, "but I would be more comfortable if things actually made sense. I want to know my field of battle."

"Don't you think observing the Askars for two whole weeks will help you learn your field of battle?" Titus asked pointedly.

"Well, yes, but it's not the Way," Ditmas muttered. "We understand our field of battle—understanding our opponents is simply not the Way."

"Ah yes," Titus smirked. "The _Resol'nare_ … Focus on Mandalorian culture. Ditmas, I will say this. I hope that, during your two weeks on Thellus, you realise, as I have, that the Bothans are not merely your opponents but _your enemies_. That, by virtue of their culture, they are your enemies in every way imaginable."

Ditmas felt very much like he was being manipulated. The fact Titus was telling him the ultimate goal and tools of the mission explicitly, but was so vague and mysterious otherwise, was deeply troubling. _On the other hand, Titus Tarkin is paying quite well._

* * *

On the edge of a park in Grav'shtarn, Ditmas patiently observed one of his primary targets playing with his grandchildren.

_The young Bothans are actually cute,_ Ditmas thought to himself with mild surprise. The Askar Clan leader, Gavin Azi'skar, and two of his fluffy grandchildren were flying expensive-looking drones. Three of his bodyguards stood nearby. None seemed to have noticed Ditmas.

In every direction, on all of the walls and the ceiling, following the gravplating, were more houses, streets, parks and shops—a 360º panorama of Bothan suburbia.

"Ditmas," Baci's voice came into his earpiece, "is everything all right?"

"Sure," Ditmas muttered. "These Bothans are well… huh." Pressing the top of his electrobinoculars, he snapped a photo. "Got our first snap of the target," he explained reassuringly.


	2. Lir Sey'les

Aboard the _Polycaste_

The fall of the Mid Rim Hyperlanes had been a topic of grave concern for most officers in the Republic Navy. On Coruscant, with increasing dread apprehension, most of the officers working safely behind desks had been watching the Holonews and reading reports.

The ashy-furred Bothan Lir Sey'les, however, had been taken completely by surprise. The news that she and her team were being transferred to the 12th Army was the biggest surprise since leaving the Strategic Advisory Cell. She had less than ten-hours' notice, in the middle of having taken leave.

In charge of the entire 12th Army, was a sanctimonious Caamasi Jedi General named Prococia Olgar'kla. He had blinked his little yellow eyes incredulously when not one, but three Bothans were transferred under his command. Now, their fleet was in Hyperspace on its way to a world near a Hyperspace terminus the Separatists had seized, MGX-93776, named _Kwookrr_ by the Wookiees.

Lieutenant Commander Archard had been placed in charge of the 12th Army's 31st Company, alongside—

"—Listen up Lieutenant!" bellowed Prococia's Padawan in a shrill voice to Wulf. Ekos was fourteen years old, purple-coloured, and like Fojo, a Rodian.

"Sorry sir," Wulf stammered. The Ardennian pocketed his chronometer with one of his lower arms. Most of the officers in the briefing room shifted nervously.

Itoll and Fojo rolled their eyes.

Dub folded his arms crossly.

Sey'les scowled. Two days on the _Polycaste_ and she still had not gotten used to being commanded by a fourteen-year-old. She would have rather even had a Clone for a Company commander. _At least Clones look like adults._

Archard looked aghast at the Padawan's disruptive overreaction. "All right, let's get back on track… Who here speaks Shyriiwook?"

Sey'les and Itoll shot their hands up. Fojo raised his hand a bit more reluctantly and so did Fenron.

"Okay, I will need two volunteers…" Archard said.

Sey'les and Itoll kept their hands in the air. The two Bothans were bursting with enthusiastic energy. Fojo and Fenron held theirs up less enthusiastically.

"…to accompany Ekos on a relief mission. Why have you all lowered your hands? Captain? Lieutenant? Ensigns? You are—"

"—My apologies sir," Itoll stammered putting his hand back up. Now he was the sole officer in the briefing room with his hand up.

Fojo glared at Ekos, then at Sey'les, then back and forth, clearly making some internal calculations.

Sey'les frowned at Fojo. Right as she began to raise her hand, Fojo shot his into the air.

"All right, Itoll and Fojo," Archard sighed. "Very well sir, it seems you have the Ensigns unless you need someone else."

Ekos narrowed his beady teal-coloured eyes, glaring at Itoll. He had clearly internalised Master Prococia Olgar'kla's own Caamasi prejudices against Bothans.

The heterochromatic Bothan glared back defiantly, looking the Padawan directly in the eyes. _Take me or leave me, your choice kid._ Every officer in the room stared at the two; many of the Clones' mouths were agape in shock at the alien drama unfolding.

Sey'les's fur began to swirl nervously. The third Bothan in the room, Captain Oryon, began slinking lower in his chair.

"For crying out loud Commander!" Archard yelled exasperatedly.

"I really don't like your tone _Lieutenant Commander_ ," Ekos scoffed with a snorty squeal.

"Itoll is a fine officer, _sir_ ," Archard said sternly. "I know this is your first command, but this is highly unprofessional. I am certain Master Olgar'kla would not want your behaviour reflecting so poorly on him."

"Very well _Lieutenant Commander_ ," Ekos said calmly but snootily, suddenly regaining his serene Jedi bearing. The teenage Padawan stood straighter. "Lieutenant Commander, I have no choice but to take you at your word. Ensigns, follow me."

As Itoll and Fojo grabbed their backpacks and followed Ekos out the door, Archard gave an ahem. "Well, okay, where were we?"

"Operation Seesaw sir," Rigel interjected in a professional tone.

"Right, Operation Seesaw…"

* * *

Itoll Oc

Itoll and Fojo silently followed Ekos through the halls as he led them away.

"I am taking you to a separate briefing," Ekos explained, as if to break the silence.

"All right sir," Itoll replied in a professional tone.

Fojo began saying something in Rodese—

"—Oh, I don't speak Rodese," Ekos said matter of factly.

Fojo was so surprised he stopped walking. " _Ah-Shyriiyesh…"_ [Monolinguals…] he muttered in Shyriiwook to Itoll.

Itoll chuckled as Fojo began walking alongside him again. [Yeah. These Jedi. Kev Rel'skar can hardly speak Bothese,] he growled in Shyriiwook. [The Jedi really should—]

"Ensigns?" Ekos asked in a suspicious tone. "Is there a reason you are suddenly speaking in another language?"

"Yes, sir," Itoll answered firmly. "Practice. It's how you don't forget how to speak Wook-Wook," he growled with a hint of a laugh.

Fojo snorted a chuckle in agreement.

"The Wook-Wook. Blasted Direct Action Operatives," Ekos grumbled to himself under his breath as he walked a bit faster. "Confounded Bothans."

Itoll's ears perked up curiously. Confounded Bothans huh? He suddenly wished Sey'les had come along. She was very talented at getting under Inspector Divo's skin. While he disliked the drama and Sey'les's paranoia that he was gunning for her command, he respected the level of uniquely Bothan mischief Sey'les could induce. More Importantly for Itoll, Sey'les's extremely Bothan ability to draw attention to herself made everyone angry _at her_ not at him.

“My first command,” Ekos continued ranting quietly under his breath, “and it is blasted Rangers—not even Clone Rangers. It’s a kriffing Bothan furball. It’s—”

"—Kid," Itoll snarled, suddenly impatient with the Padawan and no longer amused. "Respectfully, sir, I don't want to get off on the wrong foot. This—"

"—Blasted Bothan ears," Ekos grumbled angrily.

Itoll paused for a moment, wondering if he could perhaps de-escalate the tension with humour. _Kids love jokes right?_ "Don't worry sir," he growled wryly, "I can't hear your dreams."

"You can hear me in my quarters?!" Ekos yelled in alarm.

* * *

"Good evening sir, good evening Ensigns," a Clone wearing black uniform said as the trio entered a small one-tabled briefing room.

"Good evening…" Itoll started then paused as looked at the front of the Clone's uniform saw a Captain rank "…sir."

"Good evening sir," Fojo said firmly.

"I am Captain Hopper, this is Lieutenant Bliss, Sergeant Pebbles, Sergeant Phil, and Corporals Kex, Fighter, and Scalp."

Fojo and Itoll regarded the Clones for a moment. Ekos stood impatiently.

"Shall we take seats sir?" Itoll asked the Padawan. _Damn. Jazal would love to hear about this_.

"Yes, gentlemen," Ekos huffed. "Please."

While taking his seat, Itoll asked "So Hopper, sir, you aren't a part of the Twelfth Army?"

"No Ensign, we are not," Hopper explained. "We are High Altitude Insertion Troopers, HAITs for short."

Itoll's fur began swirling nervously.

Hopper began passing around datapads. The first image was a map of the cave system the surviving elements of the 224th had retreated to.

"If you turn to page two, you can see our drop zone about four clicks south of the cave system, in the middle of the savannah."

Fojo groaned audibly.

Itoll exhaled slowly shaking his head. "Sir, we haven't been trained in airborne assault. Both of us were extractors before the war."

"Don't worry Ensign," Hopper said confidently. "We'll be bringing you down with us. All of us have trained for years on the simulators for this. You will only have to hold on tight."

 _Hold on tight_ , Itoll thought to himself incredulously. A five-minute fall at the speed of sound and then a five-minute fall with a chute, did not sound like fun to the Bothan. His fur continued to swirl as he glared suspiciously at the plans.

"How will we be getting there? To the landing zone I mean?" Fojo asked curiously.

"That is need to know Ensign," Ekos said snootily.


	3. Zerir Vri'skar

In Orbit of Naboo

The Gungan Moon Ohma-D'un continued dying by the minute. Already the biocide had spread from the Western Hemisphere to the Eastern. From space, between the clouds, the area around New D'eeja now appeared almost black. Most of the visible patches of the moon were coloured with a dark red, growing increasingly blacker as the Separatist bacteria starved itself after eating the entire environment.

Amidst the debris of the Separatist and Republic fleets, Clan Askar's flagship, the _Yu'tor,_ was now docked with the much larger Republic Acclamator named the _Pursuer_. The mandibles of the Kaloth-class cruiser almost appeared to be eating the Acclamator.

Captain Zerir Vri'skar had not agreed to be debriefed, but she had not quite refused either. It was clear that the Republic and Naboo were extremely unhappy with how things had turned out. She assumed they would not the let them go until their Naval Intelligence had painstakingly corroborated every last detail.

As debriefings carried on and on however, Zerir had gone from wanting to shoot at Separatists herself, to half-contemplating ordering her ship to fire on the _Pursuer's_ tractor beams and punching into hyperspace. Perhaps even dropping a torpedo on Theed as a crude Spacer hand gesture for _kriff you all!_

"Do you find this funny?" asked Major Quarsh Panaka, the Royal Security Forces officer.

In a cramped dimly lit room aboard the _Pursuer,_ Zerir sat with Panaka and a Republic Naval Intelligence Officer, Commander Blyes.

Zerir realised she had been smiling at the thought of torpedoing Theed. She took a deep breath and wiped the toothy grin from her snout. "No. I don't find it funny."

"Could you tell us from the top, what you told us yesterday?" Blyes asked firmly. "What precisely happened on the third day after you gave your ship to the Separatists?"

"Did not give my ship to the Separatists. That esh a lie," Zerir snarled firmly. "Esh. A. Lie."

"Well, however you want to frame it… _Captain,_ " Panaka huffed.

"You ask the same shtak every day. I did—"

"—We wouldn't have to if you and your crew had not EATEN doctor Selatti!" Panaka yelled.

Zerir pointed to one of the missing patches of fur on her snout with a scowl. During her first interview, Zerir had sobbed when she recalled Hayden and Teruka standing up for the Bothans and getting killed—killed even after the Bothans had, in turn, spent so much effort keeping those humans alive. By her fifth interview however, Zerir's tears were spent.

"I regret what happened to you and your crew," Blyes said consolingly. "You must understand—"

"—You are treating us all like criminals," Zerir interrupted with a despondent gasp. "We had no contacts with the Separatists prior to this. The Separatists tortured us. They killed Hayden and Teruka. You have the security footage—"

"—You mention Hayden and Teruka every interview," Panaka interjected accusingly. "So does Raskyer, Hagin, Zoc, Ben… Eshka has mentioned them most of her interviews, and so has—"

"—We are getting a little bit off topic," Blyes muttered impatiently, glaring at the RSF officer.

"Well, I don't understand. Why did you all care about _those two_ so much?" Panaka asked.

"Do you want me to answer that question?" Zerir asked sarcastically. "Or do you want me to tell you the same information I told you yesterday and the day before?"

"Honestly…" Blyes sighed as he began tapping the stack of flimsiplast in front of him. "I don't see any utility in you starting from the top again."

Zerir wanted to exclaim _finally_ but held her tongue.

"There is one thing…" Blyes muttered.

Zerir's fur began swirling nervously. She expected his next utterance to be a threat or a provocation of some sort.

"Zoc mentioned a 'Lord Sidious' when he recalled what Dr Selatti and the Nemoidian were discussing. Do you also recall hearing about a Lord Sidious?"

Panaka leaned forward towards Zerir eagerly.

With a sigh of relief, Zerir looked down and thought. "I think I heard the name… It sounded to me like… well maybe he was the one who paid Selatti to build the infection."

"Maybe?!" Panaka demanded.

"Well… Somethin' like, somethin' like," Zerir growled. It was an Askar Creole equivocation calqued from Bocce.

Panaka dropped his datapad on the table in exasperation.

* * *

The only positive to their circumstances Zerir could think of, was that they were still allowed to sleep on the _Yu'tor_.

As usual however, Zerir gave a saddened sigh as she took her first breath upon crossing through the airlock. Everything about the Yu'tor still smelled wrong. The Republic had cleaned the ship so thoroughly that every room, every closet, every crawl space smelled like sanitising spray. Most annoyingly for Zerir, the smell was somewhere between a sweet clean smell and a dangerous smell. It was difficult for her to decide whether the smell was sweet or dangerous.

Zerir hit the nearest comm terminal the in the hallway near the airlock. "Bridge, any messages for me?"

"Kiz." [Yeah,] Ben growled. "Grum wants to speak with you again."

"All right, I esh gonna call from my quarters."

* * *

Zerir did not bother standing for this call.

"Captain?" Azi'skar's holopresence asked from Zerir's desk.

"Kiz?" Zerir asked.

"Are you all right? All esh in order?" Azi'skar growled concernedly.

" _Nokiz_." [No,] Zerir sighed.

 _"Erz-hari-shlesk kor agkalaga tasha ham."_ [The situation is extremely bad here too,] Azi'skar muttered. [The Separatist Shadowfeeds are saying we spread the disease.]

Zerir closed her teary eyes in despair. Her fur fell flat in fear. _That's why they haven't let us go!_

[The Republic knows it wasn't you. Don't be afraid,] Azi'skar growled optimistically.

Zerir took a deep breath and sobbed. [Dr Selatti tried to force me to sign a form admitting to it. I didn't sign anything.]

[Good, I know we didn't do this. It's complete nonsense. The Republic… well… They aren't doing very much to help, but they know it is nonsense too,] he muttered bitterly. [I want nothing more than to get you back at my side as soon as possible,] Azi'skar's fur swirled guiltily.

Scowling, Zerir's fur began swirling with suspicion. [Grum, what is it?] she growled, blinking the tears out of her eyes.

[The Spynet,] Azi'skar said slowly. [They… they want to ask you questions.]

[NO!] Zerir snarled. [I am done answering questions. We are done. My crew is tired of this shtak. You can tell Clan Alya to kriff themselves.]

[They have also agreed to let you all visit Kothlis…] Azi'skar growled with a nervous wince.

[I am not going to answer days more of questions,] Zerir growled firmly.

[You don't have to,] Azi'skar said reassuringly. [You won't have to answer questions for very long. An hour at most, I promise. Also, you can drop Edep off,] he added, as if dropping off that sole Bothan Diplomatic Corps envoy warranted such a long detour.

* * *

"Once the Republic lets us go, we have been ordered to fly to Kothlis," Zerir growled to the bridge.

Edep's fur danced excitedly.

"…to answer more questions," Zerir groaned.

Edep's fur fell flat. Ben stomped angrily on the ground. Hagin whistled furiously.

"So now Clan Alya esh gonna ask questions too?" Raskyer snorted.

"I know it's not fair," Zerir sighed. "Grum Azi'skar promised that the questioning won't be as long," she added in a hopeful growl. "Also, we get to visit Kothlis."

Hagin's fur suddenly danced. He stood up, unable to contain his energy as he leaned on his crew station. "Captain!" he yipped excitedly, "does this mean we esh gonna be the very first Askars on Kothlis?! Askars esh always the best explorers!"

Zerir snorted. "Nope. Azi'skar's been once."


	4. Itoll Oc

In Orbit of MGX-937

Beyond the _Polycaste's_ hangar forcefield, an armada of Republic and Separatist ships were firing at each other in the largest fleet engagement Itoll had ever seen.

The Bothan's fur swirled nervously as he looked at the battle unfolding. Off in the distance, a Venator exploded, three Artiquens-class cruisers drifted forwards to fill the gap in the line. They all came under heavy fire—

"—Ensign," Ekos snapped, "come on!" He beckoned from the ramp leading onto an unusual corvette.

_Nothing makes you care even less about your job than being ordered around by a fourteen-year-old_ , Itoll thought with a scowl. He continued gazing at the parked ship, ignoring the child.

The corvette he was being asked to board was long and thin, roughly a hundred meters long. Its pointy cockpit, which was wider than the rest of the cylindrical hull, was painted red and grey. Along the hull, jutting out, were dozens of golden pegs; their function the Bothan could not even begin to guess. The ship—

"—Itoll!" Fojo yelled. "Kriff! You are beginning to annoy the hell out of me too! Get your daydreaming under control."

Itoll's gaze returned to the ramp. His fur swirling with embarrassment, he walked up.

"You were looking awfully hard at the ship," Ekos muttered accusingly once Itoll stepped inside.

"Is that not allowed, _sir_?" Itoll asked the Padawan frankly.

Ekos scoffed, turned around, and walked onto the bridge, joining the HAIT Troopers.

* * *

"What are you doing!" Itoll yelped to the pilot. His fur pressed tightly to his body in fear.

Fojo gripped the edges of his. "You are flying too close—"

"—It's fine," the Clone pilot said gruffly.

The unusual, pointy, cylindrical corvette flew within ten meters of a Lucrehulk's surface, flying so close it cast a shadow against the bright hull.

"Why aren't they shooting us?!" Itoll growled in amazement.

"I knew it was a mistake bringing a Bothan," Ekos muttered bitterly, folding his robed arms. "That is need to know."

"ETA twenty minutes," the co-pilot said.

"Good." Hopper unbuckled from his seat. "Everyone! Suit up."

* * *

It turned out Hopper was being literal when he said the Clones were bringing them down with him. After Itoll dressed in an EVA suit with a snouted helmet, Sergeant Pebbles walked behind the Bothan, reached around his suit, and connected their suits with a magnetic cable.

"Take these," Pebbles muttered gruffly into the comm, handing Itoll a box of energy packs hooked to a carabiner.

Itoll hooked the energy packs onto the front of his suit. "You've been in space before Sergeant? Right?"

Hopper had hooked himself to Ekos and Phil had connected himself to Fojo.

"Yep," Pebbles said reassuringly. "This is our first real jump though, sir, so it might be a bit sloppy."

Itoll's fur swirled as he chuckled nervously. _Might be a bit sloppy. We are falling from kriffing space._

"Hey Itoll," Fojo's voice came through on the private channel.

"What's happening?" Itoll asked.

"You seem a bit nervous. Just wanted to make sure you are okay."

"I think," Itoll sighed. "I think I'll be fine. How about you?"

"This is really crazy," Fojo muttered. "I can't stop thinking about this ship we are in. It obviously has some sort of stealth tech or jamming tech. We flew right past the Separatists."

"Something secret," Itoll agreed. He began checking the joints of his suit and his air levels. "It bugs me that they trust me enough to bring me on a planetary jump, but then won't even tell me what ship I am on."

"I wouldn't worry too much about it," Fojo interjected. "They probably don't want to tell me either."

"Yeah, but you're not a Bothan," Itoll growled. "You are only not being told because you are with me."

"I got demoted for selling meds from my kit… Remember?"

"Oh yeah," Itoll growled with an optimistic toothy grin. Somehow, this fact made him feel better. _They don't trust either of us._

"Listen up, that includes you Ensign Itoll," Hopper barked into the team channel with the Padawan clipped awkwardly onto his front. "As planned, we are hitting the surface at 0236 local time. It will be dark. The rainstorm should hide any heat signatures from the Separatist scanners. Have we done our safety checks?"

"Yes sir," Itoll answered half a second before everyone else.

"Good. Prepare for jump."

* * *

Itoll tilted his head up as he and Pebbles propelled through space. All above him, the space battle continued raging. Droid fighters and Republic fighters were now caught up in heated engagements alongside the capital ships. Flashes were going off here and there every few seconds as the fighters or torpedoes exploded.

"Hey Itoll, look in your mirror," Fojo said breathlessly.

Itoll held out his wrist and looked in the mirror.

The light from inside the airlock they had exited from was visible but nothing else was. It was like a lighted portal shining out of another dimension. The cylindrical pointy corvette they had boarded was completely invisible.

"Whoa…" Itoll groaned in amazement.

"Ensigns," Ekos's voice barked onto the channel. "Cage your eyes forward!"

_"Shyrii oh shyriiwook."_ [Speak Shyriiwook,] Itoll growled to Fojo.

[Why?] Fojo asked back.

[When Jazal mind-probed me, she—]

[—Jazal mind-probed you!?] Fojo exclaimed in horror

[It's not like that,] Itoll growled cautiously. [I mind probed her back,] he paused, wondering how to phrase this. [When Jazal could read my thoughts—let's just put it like that, when she could read my thoughts and memories, she couldn't understand the Bothese ones.]

Fojo gave a neutral Shyriiwook grunt. [That's actually kind of surprising. You think Ekos is reading our thoughts to hear our conversation through space?]

[Maybe,] Itoll growled with uncertainty.

* * *

"HOLY SHTAK!" Itoll yelped onto the team channel. All over his body, his fur was completely flat.

As they entered the atmosphere, they began accelerating faster and faster through the darkness. The readout on his wrist already showed a speed of 1,100 km/h and increasing. In a panic, the Bothan began reaching for the emergency chute—

"—Don't you dare Ensign!" Sergeant Pebbles yelled angrily, pulling Itoll's hand off the cord. "Don't you dare touch my chute!"

Itoll closed his hands into fists to avoid doing anything stupid and continued screaming.

"Ensign, relax," Ekos said with a calm Jedi trenquility.

Fojo cackled madly.

"FOUR MINUTES TILL CHUTE DEPLOYMENT!" Hopper yelled into the channel.

Forty-one seconds later, the falling Republic soldiers reached a terminal velocity of over 1,300 km/h.

Ten seconds later, Itoll stopped screaming and began panting heavily. "Holy shtak," he croaked. "We just keep falling."

"Only three more minutes, sir," Pebbles said reassuringly. "Then only five minutes of arrested freefall before landing. Just like the simulator."

Itoll groaned.

"This isn't as bad as I thought it would be!" Fojo chuckled with a show-off tone.

* * *

A few minutes later, the Republic troopers landed hard on the night-time savannah. Itoll fell over sideways under the weight of the energy packs and his space suit, dragging Pebbles down with him into the tall grass.

Pebbles groaned angrily, unhooking himself from the Bothan. Itoll laid on the ground for a moment, staring up as a light sprinkle of raindrops hit his visor.

"All right everyone!" Hopper yelled into the comm. "If we don't get assistance, we are going to have to leave our spacesuits behind. Everyone, gear up for ground assault."

"Let's get to it!" Ekos yelled unhelpfully in a shrill voice.

Itoll sniffed the air curiously as he removed his helmet. Everywhere was a strong smell of grass.

Fojo began speaking in Shyriiwook the moment his helmet came off. [Can you think of any positives to Ekos?]

As Itoll began removing his boots, he muttered wryly, [he's a Rodian, like you.]

"Ha ha," Fojo whispered sarcastically in Basic, as he neatly stacked the components for his space suit.

[Also, Ekos is coloured tasty,] Itoll growled thoughtfully.

[WHAT?!] Fojo roared in Shyriiwook.

"Keep it down," Hopper whispered harshly.

"Sorry sir," Fojo whispered.

[Ekos looks like he would make a tasty meal,] Itoll whispered as he started putting on his dark-green combat vest. [I don't mean it like… literally, like I would eat him. I just mean he looks tasty. He is tasty-coloured if that makes sense. Many tasty things are purple, you know?]

"What the kriff are you two doing? We are on a stealth ops! You are officers of the Galactic Republic! Get your acts together," Ekos whispered sternly. "We are deep behind enemy lines."

"Itoll was just saying that you look like you would taste good, sir," Fojo guffawed, nearly doubling over with laughter.

Ekos gasped and ignited his blue lightsaber.

"I am sorry sir!" Itoll stammered. "I didn't mean it—It's just you are purple and AHHH!" the Bothan yelped in terror as the fourteen-year-old Padawan charged him. _Shtak! No pot of boiling carrots this time!_

"What did you mean?!" Ekos yelled walking closer. He brandished his blade centimetres in front of Itoll's snout. "BOTHAN! EXPLAIN YOURSELF NOW!"

"HOLY SHASSA!" Fojo yelled. "Ekos stand down! Itoll was just fooling around!"

Itoll fell to his knees. His fur fell flat. "I am sorry Commander! You are just purple. Purple things look tasty," he continued stammering. He felt an unseen presence reaching out to him, tugging on his tight fur pressed flatly into his body. The heat of the lightsaber began to hurt his nose.

"COMMANDER!" Hopper yelled. "STAND DOWN!"

The Clones began screaming and shouting. Pebbles swore under his breath.

Ekos continued standing over the kneeling Bothan, lightsaber in his right hand, brandishing three fingers in Itoll's direction with his left hand.

"He didn't mean it sir!" Fojo yelled again. "Don't hurt him! Please sir, he really didn't mean it!"

"Please Commander, I really won't hurt you. I promise. I didn't mean it," Itoll pleaded.

Five seconds of nervous silence later, Ekos retracted his blade, suddenly content with the veracity of the Bothan's promise. "Stand up Ensign," he grunted.

Itoll stood at attention.

Ekos picked Itoll's green helmet off the ground and shoved it into his chest. "Gear up. I don't want to hear another word of Shyriiwook until we make contact with the locals. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir," Itoll answered, regaining his military bearing for the first time since being put under Sey'les's command.

Without saying another word, Ekos walked back towards his own pile of spacesuit components. Hopper and the Clones stared at Itoll incredulously. Pebbles looked mildly impressed with Ekos.

Itoll's fur remained flat for ten more seconds as he changed into the rest of his combat gear. As the shock from being nearly killed wore off, a new shock from being reprimanded by a child took its place. The Bothan could not remember ever having been so embarrassed in his life.

Fojo finally piped up. "Sorry. Itoll I—"

"—Don't even talk to me," Itoll snarled. "That was kriffed."

"You're both kriffed," Ekos muttered. "Pebbles? Phil?"

"Yes sir," both of the Clones answered.

"Pebbles, you are going to be Itoll's battle buddy for the duration of this op. Phil, you are going to be Fojo's. I don't want either of the Ensigns near each other until we reach the operating base."

"Understood sir," Pebbles answered sternly.

"Itoll? Fojo?" Ekos asked in a shrill whine.

"Yes sir?" Itoll growled nervously and Fojo muttered angrily.

"Any more misconduct and you will be spending the duration of this mission in the brig. Your behaviour is putting us all at risk. I—" the Padawan stopped talking once his voice cracked.

"I am sorry sir," Itoll said. "It won't happen again."

* * *

The group cautiously walked through the darkness, trampling through the tall grass. Itoll's nightvision goggles bounced awkwardly on his snout, giving him a sore spot.

After forty minutes of walking in the silence, Itoll began to smell Wookiees. He walked faster, catching up to Ekos.

"Where are you going?" Pebbles whispered harshly.

"I smell Wookiees," Itoll whispered back. "Telling Ekos."

The Padawan stopped and held out a fist. The whole group stopped.

"I smell Wookiees," Itoll growled optimistically.

"I sense them too," Ekos muttered. "These ones don't want to be found. I sense they are not the Wookiees we are looking for. We best keep walking."

"But sir," Fojo whispered in a pant. "We have been walking for hours. Surely some Wookiees could help us with our gear."

"It's been forty-two minutes," Ekos whispered with an angry glare in Fojo's direction. "Do any of you need help carrying your gear?"

"No sir," Itoll and the Clones chanted in a whisper.

"Good," Ekos scoffed. "Itoll, carry Fojo's assault pack."

Itoll scowled lividly, flashing his teeth as he took Fojo's assault pack. Fojo did not say anything but exhaled in a worried whistle. Itoll did not have words for how furious he was.


	5. Shidar Zhol'skar

Thellus Asteroid, Dressel System

While humans often referred to prostitution as the 'oldest profession,' and engaged in lively debates about its morality, like everything else, Bothans never gave the institution any philosophical pondering. At the time of the Manda Contact Event three centuries ago, Bothans were certainly engaged in it.

Shidar Zhol'skar had jet-black fur and, like most Askars, spent more time grooming her shiny sharp teeth than she did any other part of her body. Most unusual however, were her violet eyes. Shidar had never met another Askar with the trait.

A week after her eighteenth birthday, she began working at the Sleepy Hollow Brothel in the Gal'skar Docks District. Most of her clients were Bothan, mostly males, mostly from other systems, and mostly starship crew. Two or three times a week however, she would get a human.

To her surprise, this human, a tall, muscly one with a line shaped scar cutting across his eyebrow, was now spending the entire night with her. _That's never happened before_ , she thought as her fur danced excitedly at the prospect of making 310 Zav in one night. But then _Ugh._

The human began smoking a death stick.

_That should be illegal._

"What is it?" he asked.

"Nothing," she growled with a grimace, leaning on his chest. She stroked his pecs for a moment, trying to think of something sexy to say. "You are just so strong and handsome," she said.

"Yeah. I bet it's a huge relief for you to get a handsome guy like me instead of a fat ugly kriff, huh?"

Shidar stared down at his scarred face. _You may be well-built, but you're hardly a looker._ "Yep," she growled.

"You wanna know my real name?" he asked with a devious smile.

"You did tell me your real name. Jom. I seen it myself, kiz? Esh the law for you to show me your ID," she growled wearily. _Great. Another client who is gonna lie about being Alderaanian Royalty, CorSec Special Forces, an RSF pilot, or—_

"—Since I've kriffed you, I can tell you," he said confidently. "My Mandalorian Clan only allows us to tell clan members and partners our real name. You're my partner right?"

"Kiz! Definitely!" she growled enthusiastically, narrowing her violet eyes with an amused feral grin. _Mandalorian! Damn this tops all the stupid stories I've heard._

The Mandalorian stretched, lying back in bed with his elbows out and his hands behind his head. "The name's Pul. You're of Clan Askar? I am of Clan Shar," he mumbled proudly with the death stick in his mouth.

She grabbed the death stick from his mouth with her furry fingers and dropped it in the ash tray. "Sorry _Pul_ ," Shidar said. "My nose, I am… I am sorry."

"Oh yeah, sorry. Forgot about your nose," Pul said, tapping two fingers on the end of her snout.

Shidar blinked in surprise.

"May I call you _riduur_?" Pul asked. "It's Mando'a for someone in a love-bond."

"Sure," Shidar growled wryly. "May I call you _rurzask_? Esh Bothese for cunning."

"Rurzask…" Pul mumbled to himself, repeating it back at her in the thick Askar Bothese accent he heard the word in. "Hmmm… I like the way that word curls my tongue. Sure. My mother always said I was her smartest son."

* * *

Shidar's fur now swirled with suspicion. She looked down from her datapad's screen to the sleeping human, then back at the screen. On the datapad, she had a Mando'a to Bothese Dictionary open:

**"** **Riduur** **: Закон; романтиск партнер. Умтона за усжул яку корн ўођали."**

**[Riduur: Spose; romantic partner. Used as a complement.]**

_Hmmm so it was a Mandalorian word… Shtak. I gotta sleep. I've booked this room tomorrow from 1500 to 2300._

* * *

Gavin Azi'skar

The reports from Bothawui-9 indicated that everything was going faster than planned. The Varnek dome was now complete and the prototyping facility was nearly finished. Things were going fast enough for him to focus on the Futures' Symposium two weeks away, an exposition showcasing new areas of research, proposals for economic strategy, and, of course, the second-largest auction in Bothan space.

This year, with the Clone Wars effectively ending every such expo in Republic and Separatist space, attendance was going to be larger than ever.

_I need someone else to help me_ , Azi'skar realised as he fumbled through the list of attendees on his datapad. _Olanir… Olanir and Klaes!_

He began dialling Varnek when suddenly, his holopad buzzed. It was coming from the chief of police.

"Good afternoon Grum," Chief Sylvester Geradino said professionally.

Azi'skar remarked the human's holopresence for a moment. "Good afternoon. I am a bit busy right now…"

"You'll never believe this," Geradino muttered. "A prostitute from the docks swung by and said she kriffed a Mandalorian," he guffawed. "She said… she said… hahahaha…"

Azi'skar closed his eyes in frustration. _I don't have time to listen to a crazy story about some prostitute._

"She came by with DNA evidence she wanted us to check on—"

"—Gross," Azi'skar snarled furiously. "What does this have to do with anything? Chief, I told you I was busy. Just because some stupid _kakawar_ from the docks believes every story her clients tell her, does not give you the right to disrupt my afternoon."

"I am sorry Grum," Geradino stammered nervously. "I'll get to the point. You told me to bring by any mention of Tarkin to you sir."

Azi'skar's fur swirled nervously. "Yes?"

"She said that she was only telling us because she fears the threat of Tarkin against her Grum…"

"Shtak!" Azi'skar yelped. "How does she know the Tarkins were involved with anything? How does she even know that name?"

"My question exactly," Geradino muttered. "She wants to meet with you and says—"

"I'll be there in twenty," Azi'skar croaked wearily.

"Glad to hear," Geradino said brightly. "Grum, what do you want me to do with the _evidence_?"

"Throw that shtak away!" Azi'skar snarled impatiently. "I don't see how it's relevant to anything."

"As you wish, Grum."

* * *

Shidar Zhol'skar 

Unlike most members of her trade, Shidar liked to follow a slogan posted on many motivational posters under Gavin Azi'skar's face: **Kita woks ba zharn aynimat? Reyho woks ba zharn aynimat? Gin-zega woks korn aynimat.** **[See something dangerous? Smell something dangerous? Then say something.]** Shidar's father often liked to quote that one.

It was thus one of the most thrilling moments of her life when Azi'skar himself had come to meet her after she reported the Mandalorians.

Shidar's fur danced with excitement as she sat at a wooden desk in the interview room, drinking a caf. _The Grum is coming to meet me. They are taking these Mandalorians very seriously._

Her datapad buzzed. It was her Union Rep Katyir, replying to her request for advice. **"** **Гин** **-** **рикорда** **ўокс** **зомат** **." [Record everything.]** Her fur swirled nervously. _All right_. She pressed the record button on her datapad once she heard footsteps outside.

She stood up politely as three Bothans entered the room. Two were armed and the third wore a regal black cape with Clan Askar's Sigil—his face she recognised on all of the posters and the five Zav coins, Gavin Azi'skar. All three were dark brown-furred, but Azi'skar had patches of grey. He looked much older than she expected.

Azi'skar blinked in momentary surprise when his gaze went up her body, then reached her eyes. Shidar had seen it a million times. The shock at seeing violet eyes on such a clearly Askar-looking Bothan.

Shidar growled nervously, _"Dhųsk shąshąy, phąm Ghrųm ąth phąnam…?"_ [Good afternoon, Grum and…?"]

"Phąnąm Fręyįr ąth Trigger." [Freyir and Trigger], Azi'skar said casually, without introducing his bodyguards' family names. He walked around the desk and sat down. Freyir and Trigger continued standing by the doorway.

_Glad I don't have their job,_ Shidar thought. _Azi'skar must not like them very much_. [Grum, I am very glad you are taking this predicament seriously. You are very wise.]

Azi'skar's fur did not dance with excitement at her praise.

Shidar's fur swirled nervously.

[You have very interesting eyes,] Azi'skar noted.

Her fur danced excitedly. The sudden disarming complement relaxed her. [Thank you. I hear that a lot.]

[So… What can you tell me about the Tarkins?] Azi'skar growled cautiously.

[Nothing,] she growled, raising her hands in front of the table in a Spacer hand shrug. [I just heard that the humans were after you.]

[But you used the word 'Tarkin' am I correct?]

[Yes Grum,] she growled nervously.

[Where could you have heard that from?] Azi'skar growled, much more impatiently.

[Um…] Shidar paused. _Shtak. This Tarkin stuff is serious._ [Prostitute-client confidentiality?] she growled with uncertainty, suddenly avoiding eye-contact. Her fur swirled guiltily.

[That is not a thing,] Azi'skar snarled. [That doesn't exist. You made that up.]

[Oh,] Shidar muttered. [Well, what are we going to do about the Mandalorians?] she asked.

[What Mandalorians?!] Azi'skar growled impatiently.

[Grum,] Shidar sighed. [The Tarkins are after you. Mandalorians are here. Does this not make you think that—]

[—Just because an Arkanis economics professor tells you he's a Mandalorian doesn't mean anything,] Azi'skar growled in a surprisingly fatherly tone. [Humans don't have fur. When they lie, you can't tell so easily. Do you understand? Next time, don't believe everything they say.]

_Shtak he thinks I am a total moron._ Shidar paused, exhaling slowly, thinking of what to say next. Instead of what the confident tone she wanted to set, her explanation came out as a whiny growl. [Grum, I didn't believe him at first, but then he spoke Mandalorian.]

[It's _Mando'a_ ,] Azi'skar sighed. [Have you ever heard Mando'a before?]

_The name is irrelevant._ [Grum, no I haven't, but—] she stammered.

[—Then how do you know he really spoke Mando'a?]

[My Mandalorian to Bothese dictionary. Grum, I have it right here,] Shidar growled more confidently, pulling out her datapad.

[You are adorable,] Azi'skar snorted. He gave a deep, hearty, mirthful laugh. [We need more un-prejudiced Bothans like you if we are to reform our society. Fewer Bothans with an agenda. Keep being you, but next time—next time someone, a Marine, a Marshal, a cop, I dunno; next time someone tells you classified information, I want you to tell them to stop. Can you do that?]

[Yes Grum,] Shidar growled obediently. Her fur swirled with embarrassment.

[Thank you for your time,] Azi'skar chuckled.

* * *

_Hey!_ On the maglev ride back to the docks, Shidar saw a poster of Clan Leader Azi'skar's winking face. The caption was posted in both High Galactic and Bothese Cyrillic: **GIN-THAY-ERZ WOKS JOV—ГИН-ЂАЙ-ЕРЗ ЎОКС ЙОВ! [KEEP BEING YOU!]** She snarled aloud, her fur standing on edge.

The more Shidar thought about it, the less sense any of it made. _An economics professor with scars like that? An economics professor built like a warrior? An economics professor who smokes death sticks and swears like the captain of a garbage scow?_ Azi'skar must have seen the pictures of the human. He just did not believe her. _Very unwise. Very stupid,_ Shidar thought with an angry scowl. _He cannot even follow his own advice._ She felt almost betrayed.

_They would take me seriously if I reported a spice dealer. Mandalorian? No, it's crazy_ , she frowned. As she rode the maglev back to the Gal'skar Docks District, the inquisitive Bothan began to formulate a plan. A plan to pursue this investigation further even though no one believed her.


	6. Itoll Oc

MGX-93776

Things did not improve for Itoll as they continued marching on. While the Bothan was still stewing with anger at Fojo, he was far more terrified of this angry and scared Padawan. 

"Sir, he is getting angry," Itoll growled. His fur was flat. "Whenever I say _Wyoorgghraeshnay_ in Basic instead of 'Stomper of Puddles' he gets very angry."

"STOP MUCKING AROUND!" Ekos screamed. He lowered his hand towards his lightsaber threateningly.

"Sir, I am so sorry," Itoll yelped. "The Wookiees… they… they..." his voice died. He was panicking too hard to explain himself to the angry Padawan.

In the darkness, the Republic Troopers encountered three Wookiees. These Wookiees were like none Itoll had ever met. They spoke Shyriiwook with very strange accents and—

 _"_ — _Shyrii oh ma nama huma Mashikh!"_ [Speak my name in Basic!] Stomper of Puddles roared.

"He's telling the truth sir," Fojo croaked nervously. "Stomper of Puddles is what _Woorgghraeshnay_ means, and he gets very angry when Itoll says _Woorgghraeshnay_ in Basic. These Wookiees must come from a different culture. You Jedi must learn of other cultures, right?"

"Yeah but… ugh. Fine Itoll, I am sorry," Ekos said, removing his hand from his lightsaber hilt and placing it on the Bothan's shoulder. "I am sorry for letting my anger get the best of me. It isn't the Jedi Way. I should not be causing you distress like that. What does Stomper of Puddles say?"

"Stomper of Puddles says this is his mate, Roarer of Yowls," Itoll growled nervously, closing one eye as if afraid of being physically struck. "This is his brother," he pointed to a light-brown furred Wookiee, "thrower of Plastisheet _Craft_?"

Stomper of Puddles roared angrily.

"All right," Itoll yelped. "Thrower of Plastisheet _Spacecraft_."

A few of the Clones began roaring with laughter.

"Your stupid nicknames aren't much better," Ekos scoffed. "Real rich coming from you, 'Pebbles.'"

"My apologies sorry sir," Pebbles stammered.

"Sir," Hopper muttered nervously. "We are getting _very loud_. There is a significant chance the Separatists heard us or the Wookiees."

"You're right. Stomper of Puddles, can you show us the way to our friends?"

 _"Uma,"_ Stomper of Puddles moaned serenely.

"He says 'yes,'" Itoll explained.

* * *

Itoll, Pebbles, Ekos, and the three Wookies walked at the front of the group.

[Bothan,] Thrower of Plastisheet Spacecraft moaned, [you can call me Thrower of Plastisheet Craft if you like—]

[—But you make only Spacecraft!] Stomper of Puddles roared furiously, shoving the other Wookiee.

"Can you tell them to shut the hell up?!" Ekos yelled in a whisper.

[We need to keep it down,] Itoll growled nervously in Shyriiwook. "Also Commander," he added in Basic, "these Wookiees can all understand Basic."

[I don't make only spacecraft], Thrower of Plastisheet Spacecraft muttered bitterly. [The Plastisheet Amphibious Interstellar Assault Transport can go on water].

Roarer of Yowls retorted with a catlike yowl of disapproval. [No, it can't. Like everything else you craft, it is made of Plastisheet. Plastisheet does not go on water.]

 _Tops any stupid argument I have ever heard_ , Itoll thought with a scowl. His fur swirled as he endeavoured to be more discreet.

"What in the blazes are they talking about sir?" Pebbles asked Itoll.

"I am worried if I say it, Ekos will think I am fooling around," Itoll croaked nervously. "Sir I promise—"

"—Ensign, I believe you. This is crazier than I could have fathomed."

"All right," Itoll sighed. "Well they are arguing about whether or not Thrower of Plastisheet Spacecraft makes other craft or not, and whether those craft can survive water."

Pebbles groaned as the Wookiees continued their hushed argument.

"Wait," Ekos groaned. "I sense… danger."

"How many Clankers?" Hopper asked crouching down.

The Wookiees stood still, appearing confused at Itoll, Fojo, and the Clones beginning to crouch into tactical poses.

"I don't know," Ekos muttered, closing his eyes.

"Who goes there?" a droid asked from the other side of the tall grass.

"SHHH!" Ekos whispered harshly to the Wookiees. "I sense—" he suddenly ignited his lightsaber and jumped through the grass. The silence was suddenly filled with the sound of robotic screaming, lightsaber slashes, and metal parts landing on the soft grass.

Itoll stood up and lumbered forwards with Fojo's assault pack dangling awkwardly off his chest. "All clear!" he whispered once he reached Ekos's position.

Anticlimactically, Ekos had paused in meditation. Itoll knew better than to interrupt.

"Sir," Hopper muttered, "what are—"

"—shh!" Ekos whispered harshly. A few stones and loose blades of grass lifted off the ground.

"What is he doing?!" Fojo whispered.

Itoll wondered for a moment whether he wanted to speak with Fojo yet. _I guess I do._ "He's meditating. Probably to figure out whether or not we face more clankers up ahead."

"How do you know so much about Jedi?" Pebbles asked with deep suspicion.

"It's personal Sergeant," Itoll muttered.

Fojo snorted. "That's one way to—"

—Itoll punched his shoulder.

"Ow!" gasped in shock.

"Shhhh!" Ekos whispered angrily. A few of the floating blades of grass had fallen onto the ground.

[Fojo,] Itoll whispered in Shyriiwook, facing the Wookiees to make it look like he was speaking with them. His fur stood on end. [If you ever do anything like that again to me, I will beat the shtak out of you. I might beat the shtak out of you as it is.]

[That's…] Fojo began protesting, but then grumbled [I'm sorry.]

[There's a lot of shtak I've done that can get me killed Fojo. This isn't funny. Kev Rel'skar attacked me in my apartment. Yeah, Ekos would probably go to prison for killing me, but I'd be dead.]

Fojo exhaled sharply. [I am sorry. Very sorry. I wouldn't have done that had I known.]

[Well,] Itoll growled, flashing his teeth. [Now you know so don't ever do it again.]

Ten minutes of meditation later, the Padawan was content. "All right, they've moved on," he said. "Lead the way Stomper of Puddles."

* * *

It was nearly morning when they finally arrived at their destination. With the sun just below the horizon, the sky was lit with an eerie dark-blue hue accompanied by both a dark and light ultraviolet hue.

Before them sat a series of hills covered with vehicular wreckage. Crashed LAATs and Separatist gunships sprinkled the top, while, at the base of the hill sat several pummelled ATTEs. Beyond those the Wookiee and Republic defenders had set up a few turrets.

[Right over there,] Stomper of Puddles yowled unnecessarily.

"He says up there," Itoll panted, exhausted from carrying 44 kilos of his own gear, and another 20 of Fojo's.

"All right everyone, we'll go up there, and see how many hours of shuteye we can get before Operation Seesaw begins," Ekos said in a hopeful tone.


	7. Raskyer Vri'skar

Kothlis

The interrogations over Naboo had been the worst time in the old Bothan's life; at least since arriving Thellus as a refugee twenty-five years ago, along with her parents and cousins. When she was younger, before she became a ship's doctor, Raskyer worked in one of Thellus's hospitals in a rougher district. She often had to file incident reports after altercations between patients and staff. It was her least favourite part of the job.

Over Naboo, her life had been nothing but one long repetitive incident report, being pulled out of her in every possible way. Now that she was on Kothlis however, the interrogations were different. Friendlier, less monotonous, but far more ominous. _Ominous, that's a good way to think of it,_ Raskyer thought to herself.

Across the interview table from two sweet-smelling Kothlis scientists, Raskyer's cream-coloured fur swirled nervously. The Kothlis interviewers were far nicer than the humans had been, but they continued to ask and say things that worried Raskyer deeply. Things that shocked her conscience. Things like—

 _"_ — _Nokiz ko li ravo rasa yag tona ko korn welomat!"_ [—I don't want to find out how to make a cure!] Kalan Fey'val scoffed impatiently.

[We already know that a temperature higher than 40º C kills it,] Heshask Sy'fon growled consolingly. His calm red fur betraying no sign of worry.

Raskyer's fur now swirled with suspicion.

Kalan's fur began swirling nervously. [Perhaps our interview has exhausted its usefulness?] he growled.

[There is some information that… Well, yes, I agree,] Heshask said uncertainly. [Thank you very much for your time Dr Raskyer.]

[Have a fantastic afternoon!] Kalan blurted out with enthusiasm.

Raskyer scowled, snarling [thank you.]

* * *

Raskyer's fur twirled unhappily as she was escorted to the exit of the Tal'cara Spynet Headquarters. Zerir was waiting in the lobby.

"All esh in order?" Zerir growled nervously once Raskyer was allowed past the security checkpoint.

"Captain, I'll talk about it once we're out of here," Raskyer growled cautiously. A few of the security guard's ears were perked up. There were also security cameras visible on the ceiling.

"Well, I am glad they only wanted to interview us and not the whole crew," Zerir muttered. "Ben sounded like he might lose it."

The automatic door opened to the bright blue sky and fresher than fresh air. A slight tinge of pollution from the cityscape as well as the smell of the ocean were the only impurities. The secret to Kothlis Bothan longevity and the reason for such a strict visa policy—1.5% higher atmospheric oxygen concentration.

Zerir's fur fell flat and Raskyer's swirled nervously they walked under a giant spider web spanning two streetlights.

In addition to increasing Bothan longevity, the higher oxygen content allowed for very large insects and arachnids. Some Kothlis tarantulas were bigger than two Askar dinner plates.

Once they crossed under the tarantula, Zerir's fur relaxed.

 _"_ _Rąsą khų yągh rąvų zhųl zhąrn bhiųwęphųn._ _"_ [I think they want to make a bioweapon,] Raskyer growled, breaking the silence.

 _"Bakit?"_ [Why?] Zerir asked in alarm.

[Their questions were all about the infection,] Raskyer sighed wearily. [Nothing about the events that happened. As if they couldn't be more obvious, they also explicitly stated that they weren't interesting in curing it.]

[Not very discreet,] Zerir agreed.

[You aren't bothered by this?!] Raskyer snarled.

Zerir paused for a moment. She spoke calmly, [just because Kothlis builds a bioweapon, doesn't mean they will use it, does it?]

[No, but it is still dangerous. The fact it does not affect Bothans makes them even more likely to deploy it. It is...] Raskyer's sentence ended in a sad sigh.

As the two walked on, the streets gave way to boardwalk and the smell of the ocean became more intense. A bright ultraviolet hue reflected off the water with dark distortions here and there—distortions under which sat fish, seaweed, or—

—Out of the centre of one of the bits of ultraviolet shade, popped a snorkelling Bothan child. She spewed water out of the top of her snorkel, coughing at the saltiness.

Raskyer smirked.

"Hey Captain! Hey doc!" Zhol said brightly, emerging from behind the two holding an icy Kothtri.

"Interrogations all over?" Ben growled.

Raskyer and Zerir turned around to face the two.

"Kiz," Zerir answered with a smile. "No more questioning."

* * *

In a beachside cantina, seven Askars were celebrating the end to their ordeal.

 _"Ravo ko li won drugisk tubig."_ [I would like a second water], Raskyer growled politely.

The waiter scowled at the doctor, pouring another complementary water.

[Thank you,] Raskyer growled gruffly, taking a sip.

The other Askars at the table, Zerir, Zoc, Zhol, Eshka, Hagin and Ben ranged from being mildly inebriated to nearly falling out of their chairs. All had gone through multiple glasses of fruity tropical Kothlis beverages mixed with alcohol. Zoc still wore a cast.

No one was angry at Azi'skar's son anymore for the Bursa incident. At the time, Raskyer had been livid but after being tortured, witnessing murder, and the genocide of an entire moon, it really didn't matter. The Gungans who were upset died. The Bursas died.

[Here's to never having to set foot on Ohma-D'un again!] Eshka yipped.

[Hear hear,] Zoc shouted.

Everyone banged their glasses on Eshka's, Raskyer awkwardly doing so with a cup of water.

[What's the matter Raskyer?] Zerir asked worriedly. [You haven't gotten any drinks. I said they were on me. Still have our Clan Afon bonus, yeah?]

[Nothing,] Raskyer growled glumly. [I just don't feel like letting my guard down. We're safe now, but who knows what's happening on the other side of the airlock?] _Ominous._ _This whole thing just feels ominous._


	8. Itoll Oc

MGX-93776

Itoll and Fojo awoke to dust and moss falling on their faces amidst the sounds of artillery.

"Holy shtak," Itoll groaned, wiping a clump of moss of his snout. He began getting dressed.

"Seven hours of sleep, better than I thought," Fojo yawned.

The Ensigns shared a room—two single mattresses laid out on a wooden platform in an outcropping of the cave. Their gear was sprawled out in one corner. An ominous klaxon sounded off.

"Ensigns!" Ekos's voice barked in a panic on the comm. "We need you down in the operations room now."

"On our way sir," Itoll answered.

* * *

Fifteen years ago, a group of 20,000 Wookiee outcasts—heretics who dwelled in the Myydril Caverns—illegally settled the cavern system of MGX-93776, a Commerce Guild world. The Republic's official stance had been that these Wookiees should be relocated back to the Kashyyyk System as humanely as possible. That was at least the case until the Commerce Guild decided to sign onto the Separatist Accords.

Now, the Republic was helping these poor desperate Wookiees keep their home and throw off the yoke of the droid armies. The intended message was clear: if one dares to leave the Republic, bad things will happen.

* * *

"Rider of Storms says that she doesn't have the Wookiees to spare to pull that off," Fojo explained.

The operations room was a circular shaped room built on a platform overlooking an abyss. A few Wookiee houses lined the edges of the abyss, their lights glowing dimly in the cave.

In the centre of the room, stood Jedi General Prococia Olgar'kla's holopresence. Around him stood Ekos, Itoll, Fojo, dozens of Clones, a few Corps of Engineers officers, and one Wookiee, Rider of Storms.

"Tell her that we only need three or four Wookiees to provide the distraction," Clone Commander Kip said.

"She can understand Basic sir," Itoll growled.

[I don't want to put any of my people outside of the cave. The Separatists are shelling it,] Rider of Storms growled wearily. [Is there any way you could extent the shield beyond its current perimeter?]

"She doesn't want to because of the Separatist shelling," Itoll explained. "She's also asking if we could extend the shields."

"Is that possible?" Prococia asked sternly, turning to face the Corps of Engineers officers.

"It may be possible General," Lieutenant Causte said, pulling out her datapad. "Not much beyond the entrance though, and it would strain our reserve energy."

"That shouldn't be a problem Master. At least not with Operation Seesaw coming along," Ekos interjected. His voice cracked towards the end.

Yesterday, the Bothan would have smirked at that. He had, however, gained respect for the authority of teenagers who had been given an officer commission and a lightsaber.

"Operation Seesaw is coming along much slower than I had hoped," Prococia said wearily. "The Commerce Guild has sent in forty reinforcing ships."

"General, couldn't you just drop us energy packs from stealth?" Fojo asked.

Ekos inhaled sharply.

Itoll took a nervous step away from Fojo.

Prococia scrunched his snout and furrowed his bushy Caamasi eyebrows. "It would take dozens of trips, Ensign. Far too risky." He turned around the room, looking for more suggestions.

The shelling suddenly intensified. Itoll's fur fell flat as a ceiling light landed right in front of him. Prococia's holopresence began swirling with distortions.

"They are bombarding you from orbit! I suggest you set your shields to—"

A boulder landed directly on the holopad. The whole platform began destabilising. Itoll fell backwards onto the wooden floor, catching himself with a groan.

"Watch out!" Causte yelled in the direction of the Clones, but it was too late.

As the platform tilted into the abyss, the boulder rolled off the holopad and hit a Clone. The Clone fell off the platform with a terrified yell.

Commander Kip swore under his breath.

"Everyone off the platform!" Itoll yelped as he began crawling to the end.

The cave shook under the thunderous orbital bombardment.

Once Itoll rolled off the platform and onto the steps, he reached back and helped Fojo off. Causte grabbed his hand and he pulled her off too, then Kip, then a Clone whose name he did not know.

When Rider of Storms joined him at edge, she knelt down next and helped the Bothan pull others to safety.

Ekos was the last one off the platform. He crawled off by himself, not taking either being's hand, then stepped down between them.

Stalactites began raining down from the darkness, crashing through the wooden Wookiee structures. Lights began sparking then going out. Then total darkness.

Rider of Storms let off a weary groan.

Itoll blinked in shock. He could hear rubble continue to fall in the darkness, Wookiees continued roaring in terror. His ears flinched at the thundering echoes. Any moment a boulder could fall right on top of him and he would not know until it was too late. 

"Don't worry Itoll," Ekos sighed. "I can see. So can Fojo."

Itoll sat still in terror as pebbles rained down onto his fur.

"EVERYONE!" Ekos yelled, then he got quieter, "Itoll, hold my hand. Fojo, you go to the end of the group to make sure we don't lose anyone."

In the background, Wookiees in the village screamed in terror as rocks sliced through their dwellings in the darkness.

"Everyone! Hold hands, I'll lead us to the emergency shelter. Wookiees! We'll come to get you."

"Does the emergency shelter have light sir?" Itoll growled nervously.

"It's self-contained," Ekos muttered. "So yes. Itoll, take Rider of Storm's hand."

"I can't see her sir," Itoll growled apologetically.

Ekos grabbed the Bothan's furry hand and pulled it towards the fluffier Wookiee hand. Rider of Storms moaned solemnly as the Bothan gripped it.

* * *

The emergency shelter was three or four barracks-sized durasteel compartments connected by thin hallways. A hundred or so Clones and a few dozen Wookiees were already inside when the group Ekos lead arrived.

"What about the other Wookiees?" Itoll growled worriedly as he blinked in the bright light. "There's thousands. No way they can fit in here."

"This village only has three hundred. Nothing we can do for the other villages," Kip said gruffly. "Still, it is going to be cramped."

"I sense many scared Wookiees," Ekos muttered. "All right, Itoll—no wait… Itoll you are useless."

Itoll did not react.

"Fojo, you're with me," Ekos stated.

Fojo grumbled as he followed Ekos out the door into the darkness.

"What do we do sir?" Kip asked.

"Contact the fleet. Tell them we are still alive," Ekos ordered.

Looking at the plain durasteel structure filled with triple bunks, Itoll could not help but imagine how awful this place was going to get. _Three hundred Wookiees._


	9. Shidar Zhol'skar

Thellus Asteroid, Dressel System

" _Vi vasht'durato kor di-en-ey test?"_ [How long does a DNA test take?] Shidar growled. Her fur now danced with excitement. _What were the odds my last client tonight would be Yakis, a cop? Actually, pretty high,_ she snorted to herself.

[What?] Yakis panted in a breathy voice. He he looked down at her, exhausted. His tan fur began swirling with suspicion.

[How long does a DNA test take?] Shidar growled, this time more cautiously without the excitement.

[Wait!] Yakis gasped. He fell to her side, roaring with laughter. His fur rippled. [You are the one Shidar?! That was you!]

[The one what?] Shidar growled cautiously. Her fur swirled with embarrassment.

[Everyone at the Buli has been talking about you. You are the one who said she kriffed a _suspicious Mandalorian_ right?]

[Yeah,] Shidar growled in a tiny voice.

Yakis scoffed. [Shidar, it… It…] the tan-furred Bothan paused. He reached around Shidar and pulled her closer by the shoulder. [Shidar, this isn't how you are gonna fulfil the Bothan Way. Just keep doing what you're doing. Stay out of police work. That's our job, yeah? Not yours. If they faked their IDs, so what?]

[All right,] Shidar sighed despondently, rolling onto her side. [But when will the results come back?]

With a snort, Yakis snarled [never. They threw it out. Understood?]

[Okay,] Shidar groaned. Her fur twirled unhappily. _Ridiculous. There was no reason not to at least test it. At the very least, Pul claimed to be lying about his identity…_

[You know what?] Yakis growled thoughtfully.

[What?] Shidar asked, her ears perking up.

[If you want out of this business, you could do comedy. You know? Be a comedian.]

Shidar scowled, showing her teeth. Her violet eyes squinted, flashing angrily.

[Nah, I'm serious. You really are funny and pretty,] Yakis said consolingly as he stood up from the bed.

[Really?] Shidar growled. Her fur danced with renewed excitement at the praise.

[Yep], Yakis replied with a strained muffled voice as he pulled his shirt over his head. [Comedy. Give it a try.]

* * *

[You're not booking this room tomorrow?] Fyar, the owner of the Sleepy Hollow, growled incredulously. Her cream-coloured fur swirled with suspicion.

[Nah,] Shidar answered honestly closing her hand in a fist and giving the Spacer hand gesture for _no_.

[Taking your business elsewhere?] Fyar asked accusingly, narrowing her eyes.

[No, I am taking a…] Shidar's fur swirled guiltily. [Taking time off.] She felt guilty not because her statement was dishonest, but guilty about leaving without much notice.

[Shidar, I could charge you less for your reservations if that's what it takes,] Fyar growled cautiously. [You bring in lots of cops. Good for business, and it keeps this place from being robbed.]

[I really am only going temporarily,] Shidar snarled impatiently. Her fur stopped swirling. [Really not taking my business elsewhere, I just feel guilty.]

[All right,] Fyar sighed. [How long?]

[Not sure,] Shidar answered, looking up at the ceiling deep in thought.

* * *

On the walk home, Shidar began thinking how she was going to proceed next. _Maybe, if I can get near Pul, I can get a hair sample_. _But then no one will believe me._

_Wait,_ she thought. _I can take it straight to the Marshals, the Marines, or the Navy. Go around my Clan._

Her fur danced by the time she arrived home after two in the morning. So excited was she with the prospect of busting some stupid Mandalorians who had faked their identities, she could hardly sleep.

Shidar was too young to have grown up when Thellus was being raided by pirates and mercenaries. She did not quite realise the risk or grasp how dangerous these Mandalorians were to her own safety.

She suspected they were after Azi'skar and was intelligent enough, or perhaps neurotic enough, to tie two very disparate threads together, but far too young and naïve to see the risk. They were after Azi'skar, not her. Besides the fact that he was lying, Pul seemed harmless. The scenario that played out in her mind as she slept, was one where the Mandalorian identities were exposed, those mercenaries were arrested for violating the Bothan Way, and she became her unwise clan leader's favourite Bothan. Grinning in her sleep, she imagined her face appearing on posters next to Azi'skar's.

* * *

"Don't worry _riduur_ , we have the ship all to ourselves," Pul said confidently.

Shidar smirked. "Okay _rurzask_ ," she growled with an innocent smile. Her fur danced with excitement. _If Pul really is the smartest of his siblings—damn. I am gonna have these Mandalorians eating out of the palm of my hand._

"It doesn't look like much," Pul muttered, leading Shidar down the hallway. "But here is a _Mandalorian_ command and control centre," he said, emphasising the word 'Mandalorian.'

"Rogue," Shidar growled, blinking in surprise at all of the terminals and stations in the middle of the ship. It was almost like a second bridge. "What type of ship esh this?" she growled curiously.

"Ah, glad you asked," Pul said enthusiastically. "It's a XS Stock Freighter, made by the Corellians."

"Control?" a female voice asked from one of the consoles.

Pul pressed a button. "Control here, what is it Striker?" he asked, holding out one finger in a Spacer sign for _shush_ to Shidar.

_Huh. These Mandalorians do those too,_ Shidar thought.

"Just wanted to give a status update. So, I am clear and have established shelter at Position Chevron. Bobcat has ground transport, so we are all go for ingress and exgress from districts without using public transportation."

"Great," Pul said, recording some things on the console. "I believe though, it is called _egress_ in Galactic Basic not _exgress_ , get your procedure words correct Noble."

"Kriff you," the female voice muttered harshly and hung up.

"Who was that?" Shidar yipped excitedly. _I am gonna find out everything!_

"Can't tell you that," Pul said gruffly. "There's some secrets a Mando's gotta keep." He eyed Shidar suspiciously, up and down her body.

Shidar's fur swirled nervously.

"So, you really want to bewith me _riduur_. As in, actually love-bonded to me?" Pul asked frankly.

"Yeah," Shidar growled with a feral grin. "You seem really rogue."

"Huh," Pul smirked, looking fully impressed with himself. "This is a little weird because you are an alien and I barely know you, but hell, why not? I'm still allowed three more _riduure_ after you. It'll have to be approved by my clan leader though. My mom won't like this at all, I'm warnin' you. She hates aliens."

_I am never gonna meet your mother_. "What do you mean by four more _riduurs_?" Shidar growled curiously.

"Oh," Pul scratched the back of his neck. "My clan allows warriors to take four _riduure_ maximum. It's a KHGC thing."

_These Mandalorians are polygamist_.Perhaps unsurprisingly, that fact would not have bothered Shidar in the least, even if she were seriously considering a relationship with this moron. One thing did bother her, however. Her fur swirled with suspicion. "What is _KHGC_?"

"Well… Kad Ha'rangir is our god," Pul said slowly. "Most of the heretics believe that he only possessed one _riduur_ , but we correctly believe he had four _riduure_ , hence _KHGC_ or _Kad Ha'arangir gana cuir,_ " he explained, as if the statement itself, in a language Shidar did not understand, were self-evident. "Have your people never heard of Kad Ha'rangir?"

_Shtak. Don't wanna get dragged into some boring religion lecture._ "No," Shidar sighed apprehensively with a wince. Then her ears perked up, _I suppose though, this is another opportunity to get to the bottom of the mystery._ "But Kad Ha'rangir sounds awesome," she growled enthusiastically.

Pul smirked at her enthusiasm. "All right. I suppose we can talk about him then."

* * *

Six hours later, while Pul slept soundly, Shidar wandered the ship with a thin vial. She picked up bits of hair with a tweezer. Far too little ultraviolet light was emitted by the human-built lightbulbs, illuminating the ship's interior, for the Bothan to see the bits of hair casting ultraviolet shadows; nonetheless, she still found plenty of samples using her nose. _I am going to test not just Pul, but the whole crew_.

Shidar, of course, had no idea of the proper procedures for evidence gathering. She just plucked up everything she could find and stuffed it into one vial, not having even cleaned the tweezer beforehand.

Pocketing the vial, Shidar quietly returned to Pul's quarters. Thanks to her night-time schedule, Shidar did not usually begin to feel tired until the early hours of the morning.

As she rummaged frantically through her duffel bag, Shidar realised she had no attire that was suitable. _I absolutely do not want to look like a prostitute where I am going_ , she thought. _Don't want to raise any suspicions._ She hmm'd when she saw Pul's flight-suit. It was dark green with white lining, a one piece, with the name **Jom** written on the chest in High Galactic and Aurebesh.

* * *

Shidar now walked towards Gal'skar Docks maglev station wearing Pul's clothes. They were far too big, but she had tightened the sleeves, legs, and waste with a series of hook and loop fastened belts. To most beings, she would have looked like a misfit cargo hauler wearing a second-hand flight-suit. Perhaps the victim of a practical joke.

Eyeing her reflection in a window, Shidar blinked her violet eyes and pursed her lips. _Rogue, I look so awesome!_ Her fur danced with excitement. _I need to buy myself some flight-suits!_

* * *

_"Zon ka woks?"_ [What are you wearing?] a familiar voice yelped in terror and alarm.

A dark brown-furred Bothan male with a dyed green mane, dressed in a leather trench-coat and black pants, approached her seat.

_"_ _Dhųskh thręfą khų thą._ _"_ [Nice to see you too,] Shidar growled wryly in Bothese.

"For-for esh you wearin' a space suit?" Thokorsk whispered in Askar Creole. His fur swirled nervously.

"Eh, I need to go to the Manda Cantina," Shidar sighed, looking around to see if anyone was listening in. "Nokiz want to look like I am uh… yeah—no."

"Esh on my way to New Aroo District too," Thokorsk muttered. He looked over his shoulder as he sat next to Shidar and whispered, "house call."

Shidar smirked.

"You know you are supposed to wear clothes under flight-suits, right?" Thokorsk growled with a feral grin, blinking his curly eyelashes. He tugged a tuft of her shoulder fur poking above the collar.

Shidar groaned despondently. Her fur swirled with embarrassment. _Kriff I am going to look like a weirdo._ The window next to her seat was misted by her breath as she laid her head against it and continued groaning in despair.

"Rubbing the window with your face too now?" Thokorsk chuckled.

Withdrawing her head from the window's surface, Shidar glared at him.

"No one'll notice the flight-suit wardrobe malfunction," Thokorsk growled unconvincingly as he clipped on a fake earring.

* * *

While Thellus Station was far safer than it had been decades ago, and murder was quite rare, it was still the crime capital of Bothan Space.

After several Bothan Marshals were robbed or injured in fights while enjoying a drink at one of the Thellus's many seedy establishments, the Bothan Diplomatic Corps put all cantinas on a permanent no-travel alert. Marshals, members of the military, and all Federal employees were thereby banned from frequenting any cantina on Thellus. Any cantina except for two.

The Manda Cantina was one of the two. Situated across the street from Thellus Station's police headquarters, it was the station's official police bar. Unofficially, it was the safe bar for off-world dignitaries, intelligence personnel, contractors, business leaders, and ambassadors. Needless to say, prostitutes from the space-docks were not allowed in.

* * *

"I esh gonna have to test you for spice and alcohol," growled the Bothan cop manning the security station at the entryway to the cantina. He sniffed the air and scowled disapprovingly. In his hand was a breathalyser capable of detecting alcohol and anything made from glitterstim.

_"Kiz. Horseya ko."_ [Yes, I understand,] Shidar sighed as she walked past the metal detector. She approached the security station, put her jaws around the breathalyser and blew a deep breath.

"All right…" the cop muttered, awkwardly withdrawing the breathalyser.

A few Bothawui Marines wearing green-coloured camouflage were let in. Shidar winced as one of them pointed at her in astonishment.

[You are clean. Amazing. Who'd have known?] the cop muttered in surprise a few seconds later.

For an awkward moment, Shidar looked down at the ground, then back up.

[I really would avoid drinking if I were you,] the cop growled wryly in Bothese, staring into her violet eyes. [You got yourself like _this_ sober.] He flashed the two-handed Spacer hand gesture for _it's all messed up._

[Thank you,] Shidar growled nervously. [I won't drink,] she added in a promise.

The cop chuckled gleefully as she entered the cantina with a solemn promise not drink.

On the right, a large crowd of rowdy Marines and younger Marshals, mostly from Bothawui, sat at a long table, many of them yipping loudly at some joke Shidar had missed.

A few young Askars were mingling with them. One was nodding enthusiastically with a smile at everything one of the Marines was saying. Smirking, Shidar recognised the look: _'Oh yeah, I'll show you the Dressel Belt tonight! Please take me with you to Bothawui.'_

Realising she was getting distracted, Shidar stopped focusing on her own people and squinted at the off-worlders, trying to ascertain if she was familiar with any of the younger ones, mostly enlisted. _Nope._ She looked to the centre. There sat two humans with braided hair, one dark-skinned female, and a bearded male, _definitely not from here. Too foreign for me._ Further to the right were many higher-ranking officers and a few cops. _None of the Thellus cops will take me seriously_ , she scowled, then smirked.

_"Pam Meydzhor Tav Mi'zya?!"_ [Major Tav Miz'ya?!] she yipped with excitement. She had not seen him in over a year but could recognise him anywhere.

A blonde-furred middle-aged Marshal in a blue uniform turned around and gasped. His fur fell flat. The other two younger Marshals at his table glared at him suspiciously.

Shidar's fur swirled nervously. _Shtak, I didn't want to out one of my clients._ She approached the table. [I have a DNA sample for you Major,] she growled nervously.

Tav's fur relaxed. [Thank you,] he said in a relieved and very surprised chuckle, taking the vial of hair. [Thank you for the DNA sample Shidar! It's 'Colonel' now though, not Major.]

[Oh, _Colonel_. Sorry sir,] Shidar corrected herself, completely oblivious to how Bothan rank pendants worked.

[Sir?] one of the Bothans at the table growled, [who is this civilian and why is she calling you 'sir'?]

[Shidar, meet Lieutenant Klayer To'lya. She is my top crime scene analyst, smartest Bothan in the whole Marshalcy. Meet Lieutenant Kolo Ga'huk, best fighter pilot I have ever had under my command.]

Klayer and Kolo beamed in delight at the praise. Their fur stopped swirling and now danced.

Then Klayer's smile fell from her snout. She sniffed the air in Shidar's direction with a renewed scowl, repeating, the question: [Sir, _who is she?_ ]

[Uh… Shidar is my asset. As you can see, she gave me a sample of DNA which you will… analyse.] He looked into the vial curiously and frowned at all of the multi-coloured hair, clearly coming from different individuals.

[Your asset?] Kolo asked incredulously.

[Take a seat Shidar,] Tav growled wearily.

[Thank you, sir,] Shidar smiled.

One of the enlisted Marines at the rowdy table had turned around. He was staring at the officers who had welcomed such an unsavoury-looking individual to their table. The Marine awkwardly locked eyes with the Colonel, then quickly looked away. His fur swirling nervously.

_"Sįr, nųkįz aghrąsą kų yągh męshą wųks **phąnąn** **ąsęth**."_ [Sir, I didn't know you had _assets_ ,] Klayer growled, lacing the word 'assets' with innuendo.

The very calm Colonel maintained a straight face and avoided allowing his fur to swirl. However, he did adjust his wedding ring with a fidget. _"Nu, rasa woks yag mesha ko **pan** aset **,** pam Leytenant."_ [Well, now you do know I have _an_ asset Lieutenant,] he muttered emphasising the singularity.

Klayer's fur swirled nervously as she looked to Shidar, then back to Tav, clearly doing some internal calculations. After likely deciding that asking further questions of the Colonel would be career damaging, she focused on Shidar. [Are you all right?] she growled, now with an earnestly worried look.

[Yeah Shidar, is everything all right?] Tav Mi'zya echoed, finally getting over his apprehension at her sudden appearance. His look of relief replaced with renewed worry. [I did not expect to see you _here_. Who is 'Jom'?] Tav poked the name tag on Shidar's flight-suit. [Is he the human I can uh… smell?]

[No sir, this is Pul's uniform. You smell Pul,] Shidar said matter of factly with a spacer hand shrug. [Jom is not his real name. It's why I gave you the DNA test,] she stammered. _Damn this sounds crazy._ [At least, I am not ready… Well… I think he's Mandalorian and…] her voice died.

[Mandlorian? Hmm. Well, I'll get this tested as soon as possible,] Tav promised. [Here Shidar, you look like you could use something to eat. On me.] He slid a plastic menu in her direction.

[Really sir?] Shidar's fur swirled with excitement. _It will beat the canned shtak I was gonna have. Huh. What the kriff is Abragaedo Tart?_

* * *

After an hour of conversation and the most flavourful food Shidar had eaten in her entire life, she departed the Manda Cantina, still able to smell the Abragaedo Tart.

As she returned to New Aroo Maglev Station, the crowds thinned. The only sound off the distance was that of a late-night street cleaning speeder, twirling mops and spitting hot water as it hovered around the district.

Shidar strained slightly as she walked up the grav-plated wall, the Maglev Station was in sight, a few hundred meters away.

"Psst, ravo to buy a bishel zolorax?" [Psst, do you want to buy some zolorax?] a human voice whispered from an alleyway in Askar Creole.

Shidar glanced over. A gaunt male Thellus human and a grey Bothan with patches of fur missing sat on the steps to a dwelling. Both of them had hideous puss around their eyes, tell-tale signs of abusing those eyedrops.

_"Nokiz thikoyu."_ [No thank you,] Shidar whispered in Bothese, adding a layer of social distance between her and them by not responding in Askar Creole.

"Come on!" the Bothan snarled. "You reek of at least three Bothans and a human."

The Thellus human chortled incredulously. "Really?!"

"Kiz," the Bothan spicehead whispered. "A wild _kakawarz_ like you esh kriffin' four people in a day, but esh afraid of a little zolorax?"

_"M_ _ęshą khų khųrn sphąys thęsth yąyąlųm._ _"_ [I have a spice test tomorrow,] Shidar snarled. Her fur twitched guiltily. It was actually next Primeday. For reasons she did not understand, she felt uneasy admitting that she really just did not want to use spice.

"You esh lying," the human chuckled.

_"Gh_ _įn-khrįfą wų yųv_ _!"_ [Kriff yourselves,] Shidar snarled, storming away from the two spiceheads. Their roars of laughter echoed off the walls of the buildings for a few moments but became more distant as she hurried away.

Shidar gave a sigh of relief when they didn't follow her. Silence settled over the scenery, allowing her to unwind from the cacophony in the Manda Cantina. Shidar smiled to herself, collecting her thoughts.

The silence lasted only thirty seconds, broken by the sound of a land speeder drawing nearer. Shidar's ears perked up. She now could hear a voice.

"I am following the signal to Control's location," a human female voice muttered in an exotic accent in fluent Basic. "Still no word from Control?"

The reply to the human's question was inaudible, even to the Bothan.

"All right well, tell me when you arrive on site," the human replied.

Shidar's fur swirled nervously, she had heard that voice on the comm earlier when Pul was speaking with the others.

"HOLY SHAB!" the voice yelled.

Shidar turned around, her fur swirling faster than before. The tallest human woman Shidar had ever seen was angrily disembarking from an XP-38 landspeeder.

"HOLY SHAB!" the human repeated in a scream. She began yelling angrily into her wrist comm, "I have visual. A kriffing furball is wearing Control's flight-suit! A—NO STAY WHERE YOU ARE! FURBALL!"

With a yelp, Shidar ran as fast as she could towards the Maglev station. No one was visible besides the crazy human now chasing her. _No witnesses,_ Shidar thought with a panic. The bulky flight-suit rustled with every step, slowing her down.

A human hand roughly grabbed Shidar's jet-black head hair. She yelped in terror, her fur fell flat, slipping out of the human's grip. Thanks to millions of years of evolution, it was now too flat and coarse to be grabbed.

The human swore under her breath as Shidar escaped, running again.

Shidar began panting as she ran faster and faster. _I am going to escape. Holy shtak what do I do though? I can't go back. I need to tell the police I was attacked. I need—_

_—_ Shidar yelped in agony, collapsing on the ground. Tears streamed out of her eyes. An electric shock burned her skin in two prongs under her fur on the back of her neck, her muscles spasmed, writhing in agony.

"Gotcha," the human muttered, holding a taser. "Filthy Bothan is not even wearing clothes under the flight-suit!" she yelled onto her comm, then screamed "What did you do with Jom?!"

"I—I nokiz did—" Shidar stammered but was cut short.

The crazy human suddenly put her in a headlock.

Turning her snout sideways to slip under the woman's armpit, Shidar yelped. It was useless. She could breathe, as most of the pressure was not on her throat, but on her veins on the sides of her neck. However, the periphery of her vision began growing dark.

* * *

"Ugh," Shidar groaned. She blinked, then winced from a terrible headache. After trying to move her hands, her fur fell flat. Her hands were tied behind her and she was on the floor of the backseat of a landspeeder. Even before she looked up, she could smell the human.

"I nokiz… I didn't do anythin' to him,'" Shidar croaked.

"She woke up," the woman muttered into the comm. "Bobcat still oscar mike. ETA in ten minutes."

"Glad to hear Bobcar, at least we have some good news. Keep the Bothan alive for now. No word from Control yet," the voice muttered solemnly into the comm.

"If I find out you ate him," the woman hissed, "I will skin you alive, you hear me! You kriffing animal!"

"I nokiz ate him," Shidar gasped. Tears streamed from her eyes. "I would never eat a human. Pul esh on the ship. I jus' wore his uniform. He is still on the ship."

"How do you know his name?!" the woman screamed.

"I am his _riduur_ ," Shidar croaked.

The woman swore under her breath. She punched the steering wheel screaming "KRIFFING MORON! Going local and getting himself killed on his first mission!"

"Pul esh alive! I swear!" Shidar yelped desperately. For the first time in her life, Shidar was genuinely afraid she was going to be killed. "Please, he esh alive! Probably sleepin' in the ship."

The woman continued swearing under her breath, yelling obscenities, honking angrily at Bothans she saw crossing the roads. Several times she ruthlessly slammed the brakes, causing Shidar to roll around on the floor, bouncing off the undersides of the seats.

After what felt like an eternity, a male voice came onto the radio in an exotic accent, muttering "Overlord to Bobcat, you'll never believe this."

Pul's voice then came on the radio. "This is Control to Bobcat," he croaked.

"HOLY SHAB!" the woman screamed. "You scared me to death Control!"

"So, you have Shidar?" Pul asked.

"Yeah, she kriffing stole your clothes like a shab-headed mother-druking animal! Stole your clothes!"

"Hi Pul," Shidar growled. Her fur relaxed slightly and swirled nervously. A wave of relief rushed over her. For a wild moment, the Bothan had thought maybe Pul actually had died somehow. "Could you tell your friends to go easier on me _rurzask_? I really didn't mean to worry you. I am very sorry. This esh all a big misunderstanding yeah?" she croaked, wincing guiltily.

Pul sighed so close his comm that it created static.

"This is a major security breach," another male voice cut in. "Take her to the kriffing safehouse."

Shidar's fur fell flat again. "What esh gonna happen to me?" she growled.

The human muttered angrily under her breath again, this time in a language Shidar did not understand.


	10. Lir Sey'les

Aboard the _Polycaste_

Sey'les felt bored, anxious, and helpless in orbit. She had no skills of use for a space battle. This was now the longest continuous space battle she had been in.

The _Polycaste_ had now been on red alert for six hours. Strapped to the safety chair in her quarters, Sey'les was beginning to wish she had gone with Ekos and Itoll. Sey'les squinted from the bright light as an Acclamator exploded outside the window. A dogfight between Vulture Droids and V-19s continued, the fight quickly edging away from the explosion.

"All hands, shields are weakening. Prepare for another four-hour withdrawal. Repair crews, at the ready."

 _Looks like Seesaw is no-go_ , Sey'les thought to herself. It had already been delayed more than thirty standard hours.

Three Venators jumped into the system, taking the places of the damaged, destroyed, or withdrawing ships; continuing the pressure on the Commerce Guild fleet even with Republic ships withdrawing.

Sey'les unbuckled as the ship entered hyperspace. Left behind was the phantasmagorical orbital destruction she could only be a witness to. Her fur swirled nervously. _I hope Itoll and Fojo are all right._

Prococia's calm Jedi voice came over the intercom. "All 12th Army senior officers and team leaders, meet in the auxiliary bridge."

 _I hope he tells me how things are going on the ground_ , Sey'les thought. She straightened her uniform in the mirror, pocketed her cap, then headed out the door.

* * *

Itoll Oc

In the cramped interior of the emergency shelter, Itoll, Fojo, Ekos, six of the Wookiee leaders, and a few Clones sat on the floor in the centre. Dozens of triple bunks were arranged in columns and rows in every direction—plenty of beds, but not a single chair.

"Rider of Storms, that's crazy," Ekos said bluntly.

Rider of Storms roared angrily.

"She says that she can't stand sitting around here anymore," Itoll translated calmly. His fur no longer constantly swirled nervously. Over the last thirty hours, Ekos had begun to treat him a little bit nicer. The Bothan was no longer terrified of upsetting the Padawan by telling him exactly what the Wookiees said.

"A little less than two days ago," Ekos started pointedly, "you were saying you didn't want to spare Wookiees to do a simple observation mission. Now you want to attack Azagor City?"

Rider of Storms moaned solemnly.

"She says that she doesn't want to wait around here and starve," Fojo explained this time. Itoll and Fojo had decided to simply translate every other utterance to give themselves a break and better keep up with things.

Hopper scoffed, shaking his head. "Starve? Ridiculous."

"I agree, but we shouldn't be so disrespectful," Ekos muttered.

"Sorry Commander," Hopper replied.

"We have enough food here in the shelter alone for three months," Ekos explained consolingly.

Several Wookiees began roaring and moaning at once in protest, screaming at the tops of their lungs.

"ENOUGH!" Ekos yelled over the cacophony.

Itoll sighed. "They are arguing—"

"—I don't care what these Wookiees are arguing about, Ensign," Ekos interrupted in a sassy tone. "We are not attacking Azagor with three hundred Wookiees and a hundred Clones, with no vehicles or air support."

 _You could put it more diplomatically Commander,_ Itoll thought but kept to himself.

Ten seconds later, as if to further argue the Padawan's point, a low rumble vibrated through the shelter and boulders landed on the roof with an ominous thud.

Itoll's ears perked up. His fur swirled nervously. "Sir, I hear—"

"—Echo actual to perimeter," Ekos yelled into his comm, "there are droids on the roof."

* * *

Blasterfire flew over Itoll's head in the darkness. Lying prone on the roof, the Bothan returned fire in the direction of the shots fired. The view of the blasts burned brightly in his nightvision goggles.

Ekos stood between Itoll and six Clones, deflecting the blaster shots back at the droids. This time, Ekos had decided to leave Fojo in the shelter.

LM-432 Crab Droids continued raining down from the ceiling, landing on the roof of the shelter with a thud. Each one now set of a hail of blasterfire in the direction of the Republic forces, also on the roof.

The Crab Droids were advancing. Many of them were surviving being hit by dozens of shots before finally going down.

"See if you can shoot them before they reach the roof!" Ekos screamed.

Itoll aimed his blaster rifle up and tried shooting the falling Crab Droids mid-air. Six blasts missed but one shot landed squarely on the bottom of a Crab Droid, which burst into flames, landing on the roof in wreckage.

"Nice one sir!" yelled Upper, one of the Clones from the 346th who had been on this planet already for over a month.

"Thanks." Itoll's fur danced at the praise for a moment, then stopped when a shot nearly hit his head, continuing on past his shoulder until it finally hit a cave wall in the distance. His fur swirled nervously as he continued firing.

The Clones downed several more Crab Droids as they dropped into the cave. One of the already-landed Crab Droids was squashed under the flaming wreckage of a falling one.

"Sir!" Hopper yelled, "we can't keep this up forever. This means the Seppies have made our position!"

"I know," Ekos retorted.

Itoll continued to fire up at the falling droids when suddenly, he had an idea. "Commander, I think you could use the force to block the hole they are falling through."

"What do you know about the Force, Bothan?" Ekos scoffed.

"Sir, respectfully," he muttered grimly, continuing to return fire, "you can use a Force-lift or Force-grip to shift the rocks around."

"Hmm…" Ekos mumbled, continuing to deflect shots. "Cover me!"

"Sir! That's not necessary," Itoll stammered.

"Ensign, what do you mean?!" Ekos yelled impatiently.

"We could withdraw sir, and you could move the rocks from the ground out of sight of the droids," Itoll explained. His fur swirled nervously.

Ekos said nothing for a moment, continuing to deflect shots. The look on the Rodian's face was one of frustration. "Ensign, I gave you an order," he muttered in a warning.

"Covering fire, sir!" Itoll yelped. He and the Clones let off a barrage of blasts in the direction of the advancing droids. The Padawan retracted his lightsaber, standing recklessly in the open. The sound of rocks creaking overhead grew louder and louder until it was an earthquake.

A massive ten-meter wide boulder landed on the roof, squashing all of the remaining Crab Droids. Itoll and the Clones stopped firing ahead and cautiously aimed their blasters up into the hole in the cave. A few seconds later, more boulders fell, blocking the hole completely. A rain of thick graphite-smelling dust rained down onto everyone for a moment.

Dust landed on Itoll's helmet, snout, and shoulders. He shuddered as it slipped into his uniform collar, raining down the back of his shirt.

Ekos breathed heavily, exhausted.

"Sir," Hopper said sternly, "the Bothan was right. That was an unnecessary risk if I—"

"—Captain," Ekos hissed.

"A good officer needs to be able to evaluate risks, and know when a—"

"—Are you saying I am _not_ a good officer, Captain?" Ekos asked.

"Sir, that is not the point I am trying to make," Hopper equivocated.

The Jedi teaching Jazal had explained, _Conquer Arrogance_ ,crossed Itoll's mind, but he kept it to himself. His fur swirled nervously.

"Glad to hear it," Ekos scoffed. "Now you men, search the dust to make sure all of the Crab Droids are disabled. Then, clear off any bits you can physically carry or push from the roof. I am going to take a shower."


	11. Klayer To'lya

Thellus Asteroid, Dressel System

Klayer rode the Maglev from Agkaworza 'Yobod District, where she now resided, to the Marshalcy's Thellus Field Office in New Aroo. As usual, the Askars and Thellus humans stared at her. Not only because she was much shorter than most of the locals and wearing a blue Marshal Uniform, but because she was not bland coloured.

Her dark red and white fur twitched nervously as all of the monochrome Askars stared at her. During Klayer's first deployment to Thellus, it often swirled with nervousness.

A particularly glaring cream-coloured teenager was grinning slightly as he started at her. Klayer stared back. Her bright blue eyes locked with his red eyes. He looked away quickly.

Klayer snorted. Even after going through a six-month deployment to Thellus a year ago, this was still weird. _Kriffing Spacers._

* * *

[Ma'am, the results came in,] Sergeant Grafisk Rey'tiv said professionally, holding out a datapad. [The problem is, eight of the nine samples aren't on the Republic or Bothan database.]

Her office within the Field Office was a small room with one long wooden desk and three uncomfortable durasteel chairs. On the desk was a stack of plastisheet, held down by a paperweight laid down perfectly centred on the topmost sheet. This exemplified her neurotic sense of organisation and neatness.

Klayer took the datapad from him.

Grafisk still he stood at attention.

[At ease. Thank you Grafisk Rey, you did a very good job getting this done so fast,] Klayer said with praise, using his first and family name as was customary in the Bothawui military and police forces.

Grafisk's fur twitched once with the start of a fur dance, then stopped. [Thank you, ma'am,] he said.

Klayer smirked. _He has such impressive bearing_. [This is odd…] she muttered to herself as she read the datapad, fur swirling with suspicion.

The DNA results on the screen showed only Shidar Zhol'skar's smiling face. Bright white Askar teeth practically glimmering against her black fur. _Why would Shidar send us a DNA sample of herself?!_

[Yes ma'am, the Spynet analysed the samples got no hits on the Republic or Bothan database, except for a prostitute, Shidar Zhol'skar,] Grafisk explained. [She lives in the Gal'skar Docks.]

Klayer snorted. _Of course, that goofy Shidar would send us her own DNA sample in the midst of—_ [WAIT!] she gasped. [This makes no sense. In the vial, there were hairs that could not possibly be hers. I saw red hair, blonde hair, brown hair… It makes no sense.]

[Well the analysts did not report finding any other DNA,] Grafisk growled.

[I need to bring this to the Colonel,] Klayer sighed.

* * *

Klayer stood outside Tav Mi'zya's office. It was dark inside. _Where could he be?_ She sniffed the air and spun around.

_"Zo erz zharn fefela?"_ [What is the problem?] Tav asked, walking down the hallway towards her.

[Sir, there is something suspicious happening with the sample your asset gave us,] she answered, getting straight to the point.

[Something suspicious…] Tav pulled out his ID card and swiped the identity reader on his office door. It unlocked. [Take a seat Lieutenant.]

[Thank you, sir,] Klayer said, stepping up to his desk and taking a seat.

Tav sat down and paused for a moment thoughtfully. [A suspicion with the sample itself, or with how it's been handled?]

[Both, sir,] she explained, passing him the datapad. [It makes no sense. There is no way all of the hair in that vial belonged to your asset.]

[Huh,] he muttered, his blonde fur swirling with suspicion. [You're right. This is strange. I didn't get much of a look at the sample, but it certainly wasn't just Shidar's fur.]

_Good,_ Klayer thought. _We're using your asset's name, acknowledging the fact your asset has a name and is a living, breathing Bothan, as opposed to a tool._ [I saw red hair, blonde, and brown. It looked like she had thrown a hodgepodge of samples together. A result saying inconclusive or something would make sense sir, but given what _Shidar_ gave us, that result makes no sense.]

Tav frowned for a moment at Klayer's sudden innuendo-laced emphasis of his asset's name.

Klayer's fur swirled nervously. She opened her snout to apologise, then stopped.

[Shidar said 'Mandalorian' right?] Tav asked, deciding to ignore it.

[Yes sir,] Klayer answered. _Phew._ [Shidar said she thought a man named Pul was a Mandalorian,] she growled, saying Shidar's name as neutrally as possible.

[I suspect someone high up is quashing this somehow… Suppressing the results,] Tav growled. [In the meantime, I'll message Shidar and ask her what happened.]

_You have Shidar's holonumber_ , Klayer snorted. _Your wife—_ she wiped the scowl from her face as Tav looked up from the datapad.

[You are thinking?] Tav growled.

[Uh yes sir,] Klayer stammered, her fur swirling nervously. [I am thinking. Mandalorians sir?] she growled uncertainly, not sure how to spin this.

[Elaborate,] Tav ordered.

[Mandalorians… they well—]

[—Oh,] Tav interrupted, deep in thought, parsing something from Klayer's nervous stammering that she had not actually meant.

Klayer sighed with relief.

[Mandalorians! What if, before quashing this, the Mandalorians were sent the sample? You're right Lieutenant! Brilliant!] Tav exclaimed with a smile.

[Thank you, sir,] Klayer said, her fur dancing.

[So, we'll have to go to Mandalore,] Tav muttered.

[What do you mean sir?!] Klayer gasped in surprise.

* * *

The Mandalorian Consulate on Thellus was located in New Aroo, almost directly opposite on the interior of the sphere wall from the Marshalcy Field Office. To drive along the sides of the gravplated wall in a speeder, from the Field Office to the Consulate, took ten-minutes; to walk would take forty. Of course, this was the location Tav meant.

From the perspective of the Marshalcy Field Office, the Mandalorian Consulate and buildings around it appeared upside down. Individuals standing in that area also appeared upside down against the gravplating.

The consulate was a brilliant blue and black series of cube shapes, designed as a miniature replica of one of the Mandalorian Bio-Cubes. As if to advertise the fact that Mandalore was a forsaken wasteland, even more ruined than Raxus Prime, the Mandalorians added a moat of sand around the consulate building, the centre of which was bisected by a metal sidewalk. A nice finishing touch. It was the most unique building anywhere on Thellus.

Upon parallel parking their interceptor speeder across the street from the consulate, the two Bothans stepped out, pulled their blue caps out of their pockets, and put them on. They looked both ways before crossing the street.

In every direction, overhead, across, behind, to the sides, was cityscape held to the walls of the New Aroo district by gravplating. Just like the 1/3 of Bothawui's gravity, Klayer no longer found this fact about Thellus particularly troubling. It had bothered her when she first arrived. _Nowhere is really outside._

A sole human stood at the gate to the consulate grounds, on the edge of the barren sand, wearing Mandalorian Protector armour. Behind him, parked on the sand, were two Mandalorian _Biurk'alor_ -class speeders, each with Thellus licence plates starting with Д for 'дипломаск' [diplomatic].

"Good afternoon, what can I do for you?" the Mandalorian's voice echoed politely from his helmet.

Somehow, Klayer expected him to say something else, literally anything else. _Hey honey_ , or _you're no use to me dead_ , would have been less surprising to her. The Bothan blinked her blue eyes in surprise, her snout falling open.

"It's a long story," Tav said in Basic in his thick Bothan accent, pronouncing _story_ , _shtory._

"Do you have an appointment Colonel…?"

"Tav Mi'zya," he growled extending a hand, awkwardly gripping the Mandalorian's armoured one. "This is Lieutenant Klayer To'lya."

"My name is Fraedrak Saxon. Clan Alya?" the Mandalorian asked.

"Yes," Klayer growled nervously.

"I have only heard good things about your Clan," Fraedrak said brightly, his unexpectedly cheerful voice echoing from his helmet. "Kothlis is quite nice. I had the pleasure of guarding that Consulate for a year before being shipped here."

Klayer's fur danced. "Actually, I am a Thoran Alya."

"Oh, nice and… uh chilly," Fraedrak noted.

Klayer's fur stopped dancing as excitedly.

* * *

"What do you know? You're right," Julkorth Faro, the Investigative Services attaché muttered.

The Bothans had been escorted into the consulate's basement. It was a lonely room with several chemical analyser stations, a massive library-like holoarchive, and many specialised droids.

"Well, what happened?" Klayer growled nervously.

"The Investigative Services received eight unknown Mandalorian DNA samples," Faro explained, punching buttons on a terminal. Klayer could not read any of the Mandalorian script displayed on its screen. "…And we matched them."

"To whom?" Tav asked sternly.

"Eight individuals. They did not apply for exit visas when they left Mandalore, that's for sure," Faro said with a _tsk tsk tsk._ "Ditmas Shar is one of the leaders of a cult with a few million members in the Kelita Bio-Cube. All of them seem to be either known members, or from the area."

"Are they dangerous?" Klayer asked.

"Ditmas and Baci Shar are the only ones with known criminal records," Faro answered, flipping through his datapad. "During the Mandalorian Civil War, at age thirteen, Ditmas participated in several bombings, some of which killed police officers. He was captured, tried as a juvenile, and released after two years. Baci Shar was arrested at age fifteen for a bank robbery in Kelita. In all honesty, I have no idea how dangerous they are. We have no records of them participating in insurgent or mercenary activity since the civil war. To our knowledge, they are simply strange cultists. I'll send their records to you."

Klayer squinted her eyes, exhaling despondently. _Eight Mandalorians here, led by a terrorist._

"Thank you very much for the information," Tav said at long last.

"May I ask what your next step will be?" the Mandalorian asked.

"That is Bothan business," Tav muttered gruffly.

"Well, if you do apprehend them, we would appreciate it if you extradited them to us. They violated Mandalorian Exit Visa requirements, a serious misdemeanour," Faro muttered, continuing to flip through records. "We take our exit visas very seriously."

Klayer's ears perked up. She recognised the potential for sarcasm here but could not tell whether or not the Mandalorian actually was being sarcastic. Human humour often eluded her.

* * *

[Whatever is happening, it is very dangerous-smelling,] Tav growled.

The two Bothans were driving back through the streets along the interior wall of New Aroo's cityscape.

[A coverup sir?] Klayer growled.

[Indeed. Someone, who must be a Bothan, is trying to hide the fact eight Mandalorians landed here and are faking their identities.]

[What _are_ our next steps, sir?] Klayer asked.

Tav paused for a moment. [I will try to figure out who is covering this up and, in the meantime, we will begin to observe the Mandalorians.]


	12. Shidar Zhol'skar

Thellus Asteroid, Dressel System

In the basement of a warehouse in New Aroo the Tarkin family had recently purchased, Shidar laid on the floor, scared, miserable, and hungry. She had only been given one meal in the last two days—a half-finished bowl of Ghoba rice that stank of the breath of the human who had not eaten it all. She had only been given water a few times.

Shidar's interactions with her jailer, the same human who had abducted her from near the New Aroo Maglev Station, were limited. The human had not even asked her any questions since the angry speeder ride. Sometimes, Shidar knew she was being left alone. Her ears would perk up at the sound of the human coming and going. When alone, Shidar explored the boundaries of the dark room she was locked in but had yet to figure out a possible escape. Yelping for help had yielded no results.

When Shidar pondered her situation more, she began to realise these humans did not really care whether she lived or died. _I am just a loose end. An afterthought_ , Shidar thought hopelessly to herself. She blinked her eyes, around which the fur had crusted from her tears.

 _If I survive this, the first thing I am going to do is visit my family_ , she promised herself. _I have not spoken to any of them in months._

* * *

"Wake up," the familiar voice said gruffly.

Shidar lifted her head from the sleeve of Pul's flight-suit.

"Your situation is either going to improve or get a lot worse. Your choice."

Shidar looked the human in the eye, growling nervously, "I understand. What do I do?"

Unlocking her cage, the Mandalorian said "follow me. Some of us want to ask you questions."

* * *

Shidar blinked in the light of the warehouse's brighter upstairs.

This room had been modified into a spartan living quarters. It had a holonet terminal, a couch, and a bed, surrounded by boxes, old droids, and various stored items on the warehouse floor.

Pul and two other Mandalorians awaited her, standing around the holonet terminal. Pul appeared very unhappy with her and had a black eye.

"Hey Pul," Shidar croaked, her fur swirling nervously.

Pul frowned, folding his arms.

"So, this is the Bothan," a Mandalorian Shidar had not yet met muttered. "My name is Ditmas, and this is my sister, Baci."

"Nice to meet you sir," Shidar growled in a small voice.

"Why are you telling her our names?!" Baci yelled angrily. "She's an outsider and—"

"Because, either this Bothan is really Pul's _riduur_ and is therefore a member of us, or she's dead already. Either way, it doesn't matter if she knows your name, Baci."

Shidar's fur fell flat. Her mind began racing with ways to convince these Mandalorians of her loyalty. "I am sorry," she moaned in a whiny growl.

"Apology accepted," Ditmas said, "but that doesn't change your predicament. Now what were you doing in New Aroo?"

Shidar's fur was too tightly pressed into her body to do anything but sit still. "I was… I was eating at the Manda Cantina."

"Eating? At a cantina?" Ditmas asked with raised eyebrows. Pul frowned in disbelief.

"I couldn't drink there. The cop at the door esh… well he told me not to," she growled.

Baci scoffed. "You've really found your match Pul. She sounds thicker than you!"

"Hey!" Pul yelled angrily, stepping forward.

Baci closed her hand in a fist and stepped up to Pul.

Shidar flinched, expecting them to start fighting.

"Enough!" Ditmas yelled. "Okay, so you did a strange thing at the cantina. Given how you are dressed," he pushed Shidar's shoulder, flicking the fabric of Pul's flight-suit, "you seem like a really skrogged up weirdo. I believe that. We have room weirdos on Mandalore so that doesn't bother me. What bothers me is why you were at the cantina. Why were you at that cantina, which is far from the Gal'skar docks?"

"To make connections," Shidar growled in a half-truth. "Lots of cops at the cantina, also diplomats, Marshals, Marines…"

"Connections?" Ditmas asked in surprise.

"Uh," Pul muttered, his ears growing red. "Shidar is a…"

"Holy shab!" Baci exclaimed. "She's a literal _schutta_! A little weasel-headed _schutta_."

"Yeah," Pul sighed.

Shidar gulped. She knew what the Twi'lek slur _schutta_ meant. Being called that did not bother her in the slightest. It was true enough. Yet, her fur remained flat in fear. She had no idea whether or not this would factor into whether or not Ditmas would decide to spare her.

Ditmas snorted with laughter. "Okay okay, it's making sense now. This was all a misunderstanding then? Pul, did you give your _riduur_ permission to continue her profession?" he asked, emphasising the word 'profession.'

"No, I didn't," Pul said angrily.

"I esh sorry Pul," Shidar croaked.

"We can talk about this later," Pul muttered bitterly. "I have a question myself _riduur_ ," he asked, suddenly pulling Shidar forwards by the collar of his flight-suit.

Shidar yelped in terror, her ears rolled back against her head as she winced.

"WHY ARE YOU WEARING MY CLOTHES?!" he yelled.

Shidar's fur relaxed, her ears perked up. Immediately, a flattering explanation came to mind. " _Rurzask_ , I uh… I like your smell. Wanted to wear your clothes to keep your smell," she answered.

"Huh. Imagine that!" Pul said, looking pleased with himself. He released her with a proud smile.

"Back in Kelita, our Strill used to that too," Ditmas chuckled. "Remember Baci? She often grabbed my clothes and slept with them in front of her."

Shidar's ears perked up further. She had no idea what a Strill was.

"Yeah," Baci agreed. "These Bothans have a pretty good sense of smell too. We're taking this one back with us then?"

"If she behaves herself," Ditmas said sternly.

Shidar's fur swirled nervously. _Mandalore or death… I've really done it this time._

* * *

_"Gar riduur guur' kaysh skraan,"_ Ditmas said, then helped himself to another wafer.

The Mandalorians and Shidar were having tallgrain wafers with canned Salar fish for dinner.

With her ears perked up, Shidar was voraciously wolfing down her food, trying to understand anything the Mandalorians said. She understood _riduur_ out of Ditmas's utterance, but nothing else.

 _"Lek,"_ Pul answered. Then continuing mumbling away in Mandalorian, food in his mouth.

She felt safe for the first time in days. _They are feeding me now which means they care if I live. They care._

Baci and Pul began loudly arguing about something. Shidar's fur swirled nervously as she popped two wafers at once into her snout and began crunching on them.

"I didn't know we were keepin' her alive," Baci muttered casually in Basic, plucking a raw piece of Salar fish from the can with her bare fingers and eating it.

Shidar's ears relaxed, no longer straining so hard to try to understand these aliens.

"You didn't feed my _riduur_ at all!" Pul yelled with afront.

"I fed her some rice," Baci said with a shrug. "Also, didn't know she was official or anything."

"Baci's right," Ditmas muttered suddenly. "Let's make this official."

Shidar's ears perked up. _Wonder what this means._

* * *

Shidar's fur was flat again. Pul's hand was bleeding and had been for over a minute. He was muttering angrily under his breath.

Ditmas held a knife blade against the palm of Shidar's hand, struggling to cut her hand through her flat fur.

After chanting in Mandalorian for five minutes, holding idols of Kod Ha'rangir and his four demi-god partners, the crazy Mandalorians were now cutting hands. Shidar wanted absolutely nothing to do with this.

Shidar yelped in pain as Ditmas's blade finally sawed through her fur and sliced her palm. Her eyes teared up.

"Ah calm down Shidar," Pul muttered. "Look, it happened to me too all right?"

"Kiz," Shidar sniffled, wiping the tears out of her eyes. "Understand."

"You're lucky I am more tolerant of cowards than my father," Ditmas said, staring into Shidar's teary violet eyes.

"I am sorry—"

"—Stop crying," Pul ordered, reaching out and grabbing her snout. He turned her head towards his, looking into her eyes fiercely.

Shidar gulped nervously, sniffled one last time, then stopped. Her fur relaxed slightly.

"All right," Ditmas sighed. "Good."

"Okay now, that's over," Pul said with a smirk. "Now my _riduur_ , you say: _Jii mhi cuyi bat riduurok._ "

Shidar nervously growled _"J_ _į mį khųyį bhąth rųdhųrųkh_."

The Mandalorians roared with laughter. Pul grabbed her cut hand with his cut hand and squeezed it.

Shidar scrunched her face at the pain and closed her eyes.

"Huh. My first marriage," Pul suddenly said, massaging her hand.

"Marriage?!" Shidar snarled in shock. Her fur stood on end. All other concerns, including the pain on her hand, melted away. "I didn't get to bring my parents or my sister," she moaned. "Jus' got married and none of my family was here!"

"You didn't ask," Ditmas sighed.

"Where esh my ring?!" Shidar yelped.

"Mandalorians don't need 'em," Pul said matter of factly, waving his bloody hand in front of her snout.

"At least she does have spirit," Baci said, punching Shidar's shoulder hard with a laugh.

Shidar scowled.

* * *

If Bothan culture had the concept of a shotgun wedding, then Shidar had certainly found the very worst possible version of it. _A cut hand, no family to witness, and no ring_.

"Can I see my parents later?" Shidar growled nervously to Ditmas.

After the ceremony, Baci had gone to sleep and kicked the three of them out of the upstairs. Shidar, Ditmas, and Pul now slept in sleeping bags in the basement of the safehouse. Shidar and Pul shared one, Ditmas laid in another.

"I don't think that's a good idea yet," Ditmas sighed. "You being with us Shidar… It's a security breach. Puts us all in danger. Do you understand? We are keeping you around because you are now a member of our clan, but we can't just let everyone on the station in on this. We can't let them know you are with us."

"Yeah I understand," Shidar sighed despondently. Her fur twirled unhappily and swirled guiltily. "I just haven't spoken to them in a month." Before being abducted and fearing for her life, she would have been perfectly content with not seeing them for another few months.

" _Riduur_ ," Pul said sadly into her ear, hugging her. "I am sorry. I promise I will pay for their tickets to Mandalore so they can see you after we arrive there."

Shidar gulped. _Right. That._ "How long till we go to Mandalore?"

"Eleven or twelve days," Pul answered.

Shidar rolled onto her side and stared at Pul. _Twelve days till I go to a wasteland to live with you and you crazy kriffing humans who cut each other's hands._

Pul turned away and fumbled with some of Shidar's things. He smirked at something. "Hey! Damn that's a cute picture of you!" he exclaimed, holding her datapad.

Shidar's fur squirmed uncomfortably. _That's my datapad. Get your grubby hands off it!_ "Can I please see it?" she asked politely.

Pul rolled over, holding her datapad in front of her face. Her own likeness was in a message sent from Tav Mi'zya.

Shidar gasped. Under a picture of her own toothy smiling face, a message read:

**"Оддаша му йаг. Ерз-сусписк за, сйо ђай-иўаиўа ко."**

**"We received this. It is very suspicious, will keep investigating."**

Shidar made a nervous whiny growl. _How is this possible? I sent them hair that wasn't mine! I smelled it…_

"What's the matter Shidar? You look amazing in the picture. Even more beautiful than you do now."

Gulping, then taking a deep breath, Shidar replied, "thank you _riduur_."

Normally, her fur would have danced at the complement, but she now felt utterly useless and incompetent. _I went through all of that trouble, all of this trouble, married a Mandalorian, and somehow sent the Marshals a sample of myself._ Never before had she been so uncertain at her own abilities. _I am useless._

* * *

Shidar had never journeyed from New Aroo to Gal'skar by speeder. When she explained that it would be less than forty minutes on the maglev, Pul dismissed it. Nope. They were driving through the tunnels in Pul's rented speeder. Sitting in the passenger seat, Shidar made no more protests.

Two hours into the drive, a little over halfway to the Gal'skar docks, Shidar's stomach began rumbling.

"You're hungry?" Pul asked.

"Yeah," Shidar replied. "Esh no food down here though," she sighed staring down the barren tunnelscape. Ahead, all she could see was the rear lights of landspeeders and speeder trucks.

"Actually, there's a Biscuit Baron in twenty minutes," Pul said. "Ditmas and I ate there on our way to New Aroo."

"What esh Biscuit Baron?" Shidar asked, her ears perking up.

"Oh, you'll love it."

Parked in the dark tunnel in a spot in front of the fuel depot and Biscuit Baron, the unlikely couple now ate in their speeder.

Shidar's fur swirled nervously in the flight-suit. Pul had ordered her a Bantha Breakfast Biscuit with Blue Sauce and a side of fries. The sauce smelled dangerous; it smelled spicy.

Pul bit into his, savouring the taste. Some of the blue sauce rained down onto the sandwich wrapper on his lap. "You gonna eat? My _riduur_ needs her strength."

Shidar ate another fry and smiled, munching it down. _Happy?_

Pul picked up her Bantha Biscuit and held it in front of her snout.

Gulping nervously, Shidar slowly took a bite. It tasted meaty, bready, salty, savoury and very spicy. Shidar coughed, tears streaming from her eyes.

"What's the matter?" Pul groaned.

"It esh… it is… it is so spicy!" Shidar gasped, gulping down a cup of water.

"This is hardly spicy at all! Onions are spicier than this!" Pul exclaimed. "You Bothans really need to toughen up. Damn. Maybe I should call you _laandur_."

Whatever in the Galaxy onions were, they did not sound like a good idea to the Bothan. "I am sorry," she moaned. Far more afraid of being rejected by Pul than the burn of the spiciness, she took another bite. Tears streamed down her eyes as she swallowed it. Her fur twirled unhappily as she took a smaller spicy nibble. _How is this thing even considered edible?_


	13. Lir Sey'les

  
Aboard the _Polycaste_

Lying on her back, Captain Lir Sey'les allowed a refreshing Alderaanian grape to drop into her open snout. She bit down ferociously, savouring the juiciness.

Operation Seesaw had been delayed another twenty-three hours. The _Polycaste_ was now lingering in deep space. The bored Clone ground-troopers, for the most part, were cleaning their armour. Lieutenant Commander Archard, as well as Lieutenants Fenron, Rigel, and Captain Oryon were playing card games, illegally gambling on deck eleven—staying up late, in anticipation of possibly the last late morning they will have in months.

Naturally, Sey'les and Wulf were instead doing something so unbecoming of an officer, that it would have made any Admiral or Jedi General in the Republic scream; their calm and bearing shattered by the horror. If they were caught, they would be fortunate to return to Coruscant in orange jumpsuits; as opposed to simply being jettisoned into space with the garbage on some vague General Order signed into law by Vice Chancellor Mas Amedda.

If the Clones were witness to this, they would have been utterly confused; a spectacle completely beyond their ken.

Sitting up on the bed over the ashy-furred Bothan, the Ardennian teasingly dangled an entire vine of grapes over her face with an innocent expression of pure fascination.

On the floor, below the bed, were three empty bottles of Ruge Liqueur. A few hours ago, Sey'les had stolen it from the confiscated materials locker on deck sixteen. _Ro'val says I can't drink while taking anti-psychotics,_ she had thought, _well, one drink wouldn't hurt_.

"Lieutenant!" Sey'les snarled in a slurry voice. She opened her snout, expecting more grapes. A deep Bothan growl emanated into the room.

"Sorry Captain," Wulf chuckled, lowering the entire vine down.

As Sey'les closed her jaw, Wulf retracted the grapes. Her jaw snapped shut on empty air.

Sey'les sat up impatiently, stuck her face into the grapes, and began viciously attacking the vine in a series of angry snarls and snaps. Dozens of grapes popped open in her mouth, a few fell onto her body and onto the bed. Alderaanian grape juice streamed down her snout, onto her neck and chest. The musky smell of wet Bothan mixed with the sickly-sweet smell of grape.

"Holy shassa you Bothans are scary eaters," Wulf shuddered. He picked a loose grape from the bed and ate it, deep in thought. "Glad we decided to do this not wearing clothes," he muttered in a distant voice, stroking the grape juice mess on her neck.

Sey'les blinked up at him, also with a look of deep thought. Her look of deep thought however, appeared completely mad with her fur stained in grape juice.

"Sex?" Wulf asked crudely, then added, in an awkward inebriated stammer, "ma'am."

"Sure," Sey'les mumbled, busily digging pulling a grape stem from between her teeth.

* * *

Sey'les woke up feeling very sticky. She nudged Wulf's face with her snout, then moaned in despair. "Ugh… Holy shassa… Holy shtak… Holy kriffing shtak!" By the end, it was a panicked yelp.

All over her bed were the remains of popped grapes. Her white sheets were stained by their purple juices. _Well, it is my last day on this ship, so I don't have to sleep here again,_ she thought optimistically. _Shtak! It's my last day so even the officers will have our quarters inspected._ Her fur fell flat.

"Wulf! Lieutenant!" Sey'les yell-whispered. "Wake up!"

Wulf woke up and rubbed the crusty mats from around his eye. He snorted. "Damn you are a mess Sey'les." He started standing up out of bed with a lazy stretch.

"This is you too Wulf," Sey'les whined desperately.

"I'll… I'll—gross," Wulf groaned. He pulled a squashed grape from the bottom of his foot with one of his lower arms.

"Huh. At least I don't feel hung-over," Sey'les noticed, still sitting in the middle of her grape mess. "Amazing!" Her fur danced excitedly, proud at her own foresight and ingenuity. "Grapes! It's the grapes! That holovid was right!"

* * *

"Ma'am, before you begin, I want to formally object against holding our pre-battle brief in the laundry room," Dub said sternly.

In one of the _Polycaste's_ massive laundry rooms, Ranger Team Muun sat on durasteel chairs.

"Noted," Sey'les growled. "Are there any other objections? Knot, Grath? Any objections? Already got one from Dub, how about you Dubs? Wulf, do you object?" she added pointedly, flashing a few teeth in Wulf's direction. _You could have helped a bit more. You have not two but four kriffing arms._

"Uh no ma'am," Wulf stammered nervously. "No objections. Captain, this is a fine place to hold a… a briefing?"

Sey'les's comm buzzed. Her ear batted in annoyance. _Buzzing me in the middle of a battle briefing, this better be important._ "Muun Leader here."

"Captain Sey'les," Master Prococia Olgar'kla's sing song Caamasi voice echoed into the room.

"Yes General?" Sey'les growled nervously, not expecting to hear from him.

The washing machine filled with Sey'les's grape-stained sheets began rocking, banging around loudly.

"Captain, just because you are so compulsively disorganised that you need to spend hours washing your sheets on the morning of battle, does not give you the authority to discuss classified battleplan…," the Jedi took a deep breath, having ranted himself empty of air. After catching his breath, he yelled, "IN A LAUNDRY ROOM!"

"I am sorry sir," Sey'les said professionally. "It won't happen again." She began opening her datapad to the map of MGX-93776, and then opened her snout—

"—No Captain, you misunderstand me," Prococia said sternly. "It isn't happening. It is not happening now, in the present. You are not conducting a mission brief in the laundry room. This is a fact."

"All right sir I—"

"—Captain, you were not taught to make your entire team's life revolve around yours at the Judicial Academy, were you?"

"No General," Sey'les stammered, her fur swirling nervously, "I—"

"—Good. Well I have some news for you, Bothan: The whole universe does not revolve around you. If you are going to be a Captain in my army, you are going to need to at least _pretend_ to be reasonable, responsible, and mature. Am I understood?"

"Yes General," Sey'les replied gruffly. Her fur now also swirled with embarrassment as Dub and all of the Clones glared at her incredulously.

"You and your team are to report to a room I have reserved for you: 1138B, deck two."

_Well isn't that helpful,_ Sey'les scowled. "Thank you, General."

* * *

Team Muun now sat in 1137B, deck two. As if to make the fact Sey'les was on notice clearer, Master Prococia Olgar'kla dropped by two minutes into Sey'les's brief.

"General on deck," Sey'les yelped in surprise, standing at attention.

Sey'les and the five other present members of her team hopped out of their seats, standing at attention.

"At ease," Prococia said calmly. "I am just here to observe, if that's all right."

_No, this isn't all right. You Caamasi piece of shtak. We are literally here, three hours before we are jumping into combat. This is not some teacher evaluation at the kriffing Judicial Academy! This is not all right! This is an outrage! This is appalling! This is—_ "Of course General," Sey'les stammered nervously, tightening her green uniform sleeves.

"Excellent," Prococia said, blinking his beady eyes. He looked around the room, force-pulled an empty chair into his hand, then passive-aggressively set it down between Sey'les's chair and Wulf's.

Wulf licked his lips nervously.

_All right. He knows._ Sey'les's fur swirled as she took her seat. She cleared her throat. "To continue," she said, clicking a remote and turning on the holoprojector. "Our element's role has changed. We will now occupy the high ground and provide overwatch. We will have limited air support as the 31st Company advances into Azagor City, but Separatist tactics will be to focus on the attacking element. We likely won't need to worry about aerial attacks. We will have artillery capabilities thanks to…" she clicked to the next portion.

The map's image was replaced by an ATTE.

Knot and Grath muttered in excitement.

"An ATTE," Sey'les said with a dramatic flourish, pointing a laser at a hologram of the beast.

* * *

Sey'les and her team rode to the surface of MGX-93776 in an ATTE, which, in turn, was in an LAAT-C. Also placed under Sey'les's command, and joining them, was a mobile infantry squad consisting of ATTE crew and security: Lieutenant Skipper, Sergeant Log, Sergeant Fras, and seven other Clones whose names Sey'les had completely forgotten. Like all 12th Army Clones, these Clones wore armour painted blue and white.

_I am in charge of fifteen soldiers,_ the Bothan thought. _I am awesome._ Her fur danced with excitement.

"I didn't know Bothans got so excited about battle ma'am," Skipper said with a smirk, sitting across from Sey'les.

"Oh—I uh," Sey'les straightened her face.

Wulf smirked, clearly knowing she was thinking of something else.

"Bothans are full of surprises," Dub said matter of factly. "Sometimes pleasant ones, sometimes unpleasant. We'll be running in the morning and then the Captain passes us, running faster than a Slicehound. Another time, we got dragged into some strange funeral and meet a famous Wookiee who, for some reason, was sleeping in the Captain's abode. On the other hand, sometimes, well, no disrespect ma'am, but sometimes, we end up doing a briefing in a noisy laundry room or at some random cantina in a bad part of town."

"Lieutenant!" Sey'les snarled in outrage. "Dex's Diner is absolutely not a cantina in any way, shape, or form!"

"Sorry ma'am, as I said, I mean no disrespect. Your species really is just full of surprises."

Sey'les shook her head with an angry snort.

"Sounds like you men have had all kinds of adventures!" Fras exclaimed in awe.

* * *

"How are we this slow?" Sey'les groaned in exasperation for the fourth time.

"I am giving her it all she's got!" Log yelled from the cockpit.

To Sey'les's surprise, ATTEs were slow. Very slow. As the battle raged below, Sey'les's element climbed the wall of a plateau; on its way to provide overwatch, slowly. Every few minutes, a shell would go off nerve-rackingly close, causing the ATTE to shudder.

The plateau itself had been hit with so much firepower already, that the savannah grass on top had burned away to ashes. Without the grass, due to the recent rains, the plateau was now mostly mud.

"ETA, twenty-five minutes!" yelled a Clone whose name Sey'les had never remembered.

* * *

By the time they finally neared the top of the plateau, their ATTE had become a target for Separatist artillery fire.

Sey'les grabbed a hand bar near her seat. The interior of the ATTE shook violently from the explosions all around. Her fur was flat.

"Don't worry Captain!" Skipper yelled. "This armour is rated to handle a direct hit from a heavy laser canon."

_But the occupants inside are not rated to survive such a shockwave_ , Sey'les thought grimly.

Knot and Grath looked up at the ceiling of their compartment, as if expecting it to be hit by a shell at any moment. The interior vibrated once more, this time, from the right.

Sey'les yelped as one of the six ATTE legs slipped.

Dub swore under his breath.

For a moment, the beast slid backwards, straining to regain its foothold on the cliffside. All of the passengers remained strapped in their jump-seats, grabbing a hold of whatever handlebars they could.

Skipper yelled, in a worried voice, "Sergeant we—"

"—On it, sir!" Log was now frantically shifting levers.

With ominous machine noises, the ATTE groaned. After what felt like an eternity, it finally began climbing again.

Once the ATTE finally levelled out, transitioning to flat ground, Sey'les's fur relaxed. She, along with most of the beings inside, exhaled in a huge sigh of collective relief.

"We have contact!" Fras yelled, swivelling the spotter electrobinoculars around.

Small arms fire began impacting the ATTE fruitlessly. The impacts sounded louder than hail but were far less sonorous than the artillery that had nearly hit them earlier.

Sey'les pulled out began unbuckling from her seat then drew her blaster. She took a step towards the ladder.

"Ma'am, my men and I can handle this," Skipper said. "We need to get you Rangers to position, and that's what we're gonna do."

* * *

"What the kriff are they doing?!" Sey'les snarled angrily, standing behind the driver.

Skipper and seven of his men had disembarked. Rather than covering the ATTE from behind the tank, as Judicial training had taught Sey'les, these Clones were gallantly walking in front of the tank. Blaster shots were flying over their heads, impacting the tank's front as it lumbered forward. Occasionally, their boots would get stuck in the muck. Sey'les was afraid the tank might run them over.

"Are they doing something wrong Captain?" Log asked as he continued to move the ATTE forward on the mud. Each step forward landed with a thick thwap.

Wulf groaned. "This is hard to watch."

"I agree," Sey'les grunted. "Who the kriff trained you guys?" she yelled back to her own Clones in the passenger compartment.

"Well ma'am," Dub said, "mostly computer simulators. We also had some hands-on training from mercs."

"Mercs?" Sey'les asked. "Any info on _who_ they were?"

"Not really Captain," Dub admitted with a shrug.

More battle droids emerged ahead, firing blindly into the group of eight Clones. The rearmost Clone was hit square in the chest, he fell backwards.

Log pulled the lever to " **STOP**."

"FRIENDLY DOWN!" Sey'les yelped. Wulf, Dub, Knot, Grath, Dubs, gear up, we—"

—The ATTE took one last step as it was stopped and stepped on the Clone who had just fallen.

Log swore under his breath. "I am sorry ma'am I didn't—"

"—UGH!" Sey'les snarled, pushing past Wulf and Dubs as she approached the ladder, blaster drawn. Her fur stood on end. "This is just too kriffed! Wulf, everyone! Team Muun on me!"

Climbing the ladder with a blaster in one hand, she opened the hatch. Blasterfire flew overhead as she cautiously peered out.

To the front, eight battledroids stood amongst the scraps of already fallen droids, to the left and right, stood a few droids too.

Sey'les methodically fired at the droids to the right of the ATTE. After they went down in smouldering ruin, she hopped out of the hatch, laid prone to the left, and fired at the droids in that direction.

Wulf clambered out and joined her, followed by Dub, Dubs, Grath, and Knot.

Within ten seconds, Team Muun were all lying prone on top of the ATTE, the droids were down, and the now seven Clones on the ground were staring up at them.

"Thank you for the assist," Skipper started, "we—"

"—We are going to march _behind_ tanks from now on," Sey'les snarled in fury.


	14. Itoll Oc

MGX-93776

In the dead of the night, 150 Wookiee Warriors and the 62 uninjured Republic Troopers marched towards Azagor City, a Commerce Guild Stronghold. Collectively, they comprised Echo Company. Itoll and Fojo were each embedded in different sides of the Wookiee components. Fojo was embedded at Stomper of Puddles' translator, while Itoll was Rider of Storms' translator.

For reasons Itoll could not fathom, the Wookiees had engaged in a loud roaring match over who gets the Bothan. Both of them wanted him. After Ekos screamed in fury at the Wookiees, Stomper of Puddles relented and allowed Rider of Storms to take the Bothan.

They continued advancing through the savannah, the darkness occasionally illuminated by laserfire or orbital bombardment. At the edge of the horizon, Azagor City's shields were being pounded by turbolaser fire.

"Hold up!" Ekos's voice ordered in Itoll's comm.

 _"Marsh oh-rargh!"_ [Stop!] Itoll growled in Shyriiwook.

[We can speak Basic,] Rider of Storms moaned impatiently.

[I know that ma'am. This is how I keep practicing my Shyriiwook,] Itoll explained, adjusting his helmet strap.

Thirty Wookiees emerged from the darkness, crouching around their village leader and the Bothan.

"All right everyone," Ekos's voice came through the comm urgently, "they are going to fire on the position directly ahead of us to take out some tanks. Hold position and take cover."

[Everyone, get down!] Rider of Storms moaned.

Itoll laid prone on the soggy grass. His elbow and kneepads sloshed into the mud.

Child of the Cave Beach, at age thirty-two, one of the youngest Wookiees in their formation, moaned angrily, throwing his canteen to the ground, spilling water everywhere. [WE ALWAYS JUST STOP AND WAIT! KRIFF THE REPUBLIC! THIS IS SO BORING!]

[Child of the Cave Beach, I told you to take cover,] Rider of Storms growled in a warning, her brown eyes narrowing angrily. [That is not a request. You can bitch and moan from a prone position if need be.]

 _Kriffing Wookiees_ , Itoll thought grumpily. His fur swirled nervously. [This is going to be very loud and very powerful,] he whispered urgently in Shyriiwook. [Lie the kriff down or you will die!]

Child of the Cave Beach roared furiously. So loudly that, no doubt, any droid within a kilometre would hear. With a defeated sob, he dropped his bowcaster in the mud, then, in a ferocious tantrum, threw himself down next to Itoll and Rider of Storms, splashing them with mud.

Itoll gave a whiny growl as mud splashed onto his face. [Kriffing asshole!] he yelped.

[Bothan! I am mad,] Child of the Cave Beach moaned, [I will kriff you up so hard when this is over you will—]

—Rider of Storms grabbed him by the hair and punched his right eye.

Itoll tactically rolled away from the commotion, swearing under his breath. Even for a Bothan, the level of immaturity displayed in Wookiees younger than fifty was often completely shocking.

After three more punches to the face, Child of the Cave Beach began yelling and moaning, struggling to block the blows.

More Wookiees began roaring angrily.

"Echo-five, what is happening over there?" Ekos asked urgently in the comm.

"Echo actual, the Wookiees are just fighting again," Itoll explained in a breathy voice.

"Echo-five, if you don't get your Wookiees under control, I am going to have to relieve you of command."

"Sir," Itoll snarled, feeling a bit braver with the Padawan being deployed in a completely different element of the company, "I am not 'in command' so relieve me all you want. I am just an Ensign. I am just translating. If you want me to be _in Command_ that is an entirely different—"

"—Ensign, you have been so much more respectful the last few days that I was beginning to change my mind about you," Ekos huffed.

For a moment, Child of the Cave Beach got the upper hand, stood up, and began kicking Rider of Storms. Rider of Storms wailed in agony.

"I am sorry sir, but I am just saying a fact. I am literally not in command, sir," Itoll growled cautiously. "If I were in command, I would have not brought this—could you kriff heads stop. PLEASE!"

The Wookiees continued fighting in the background.

"Very well," Ekos sighed. "I just hope our position was not given away."

"Me too sir, me too," Itoll growled. "If you want me to be in command, that's a different matter and would require a promotion."

Rider of Storms reached around Child of the Cave Beach's leg, tripping him. She grabbed hold of his hair again, clearly her favourite fighting move, and began viciously punching his left eye.

"I know how the command structure works Ensign," Ekos huffed.

"I am sorry sir," Itoll growled nervously. "I did not mean to imply otherwise."

"All right. Well, you have been doing surprisingly nicely for a Bothan. I'll consider it," Ekos muttered.

"Thank you, sir," Itoll replied. His few patches of fur that were not covered in mud, or covered by his uniform or armour, danced with excitement as he gave a triumphant toothy grin.

Finally, Child of the Cave Beach relented, receiving blow after blow to his eye. [I am sorry! I didn't mean—]

[—Are you sorry to the Bothan too?] Rider of Storms growled in a warning.

[Yeah! I am sorry Bothan! Little Bothan, I won't kriff you up, I promise!]

"Echo-five to actual, the fight's over," Itoll said into his comm. Then he snorted, in Shyriiwook, [apology accepted Child of the Cave Beach. Now please, I know this might be really difficult, really hard, but please let's try to follow orders, be a bit more professional, and maybe we'll survive the night. Seriously, I don't think any of you fully grasp the danger. You will probably live hundreds of years longer than me Child of the Cave Beach, but you are not immortal. We could die. You could die. This is a war and—]

—Itoll's fur fell flat as the loudest explosion he had ever heard thundered up ahead. The first explosion was followed by a series of explosions, shaking the ground. Itoll sunk a few more centimetres into the miserable mud.

As the horizon was lit by red and green turbolaser blasts, a few of the burly Wookiees began yelping in terror, making noises Itoll had never heard Wookiees make.

By the end of the barrage, Child of the Cave Beach and several of the Wookiees were whimpering.

On the horizon, a wall of black smoke and eerie steam rose, misting the night. The humidity felt like it went up significantly.

Sighing despondently, Itoll wiped some mud off the bottom of his snout and flung it onto the ground.

[They could have killed us!] Child of the Beach moaned despondently. [Those were so close!]

[Yep,] Itoll growled, his soggy fur relaxing. [But we are alive.]

Thrower of Flimsiplast Spacecraft began standing up.

[We were not ordered to stand up yet,] Itoll growled.

Rider of Storms roared angrily at the standing Wookiee, baring her teeth.

Itoll shook his head in exasperation. [Please don't fight. Just get back down.]

Thrower of Flimsiplast Spacecraft relented, going back to prone position without so much as an upset groan.

* * *

"Huh," Itoll muttered to himself, kicking a droid head. It skipped away into the mud, bouncing a few times before landing in a puddle.

The bombardment had pulverised an entire army of droids. Smouldering tanks, droid wreckage, and unidentifiable pieces of scrap were scattered about for hundreds of meters.

The Republic forces and their Wookiees sat on the edge of the wreckage, chowing down on rationpacks, not daring to go any nearer to the smouldering tanks. Every few minutes, as if giving further warning, a loud explosion would burst from one of the hunks of wreckage.

"Hey Itoll," Fojo whispered sitting down next to the muddy Bothan. "How you holding up?"

"Good," Itoll muttered quietly, then whispered a bit quieter, "kriffing Wookiees."

"I know!" Fojo exclaimed.

Opening his rationpack, Itoll smiled. _Gartro Meat and Army Noodles, yum._ He began gingerly digging through the condiment baggie, looking for a moist towelette. The mud on his snout was beginning to drive him crazy.


	15. Gavin Azi'skar

Botha'ahir

The leader of Clan Askar was visiting the mean red planet for three reasons. The first reason was to discuss the delivery of a newly built Bothan Assault Cruiser, to replace the Yu'tor as Clan Askar's flagship. Azi'skar was already entitled to one, but he wanted to have the third one being launched from Botha'ahir's shipyards.

A second reason was to discuss a secret protocol with Botha'ahir—a new Spacer Coalition. Botha'ahir had recently suffered from several intelligence failures after Bothawui, Kothlis, and Thoran had kept them in the dark about plots against them. They were particularly furious after Republic ships jumped into their military exclusion zone, preceding the Battle of Bothawui. Botha'ahir wanted Thellus and Tawa to join this new Spacer Coalition. In exchange, Azi'skar would allow Botha'ahir to build a base on Thellus.

The third reason, Gavin Azi'skar had intended to tie to the second. The Senior Senator representing the Bothan Slice in the Galactic Republic, Thalkrisk Yon'tannen, had died suddenly on Coruscant. Polo Se'lab was now the Senior Senator representing Bothan Space in the Galactic Republic.

Clan Askar and Botha'ahir were both in agreement that his replacement, the new Junior Senator, should be a Spacer. Gavin Azi'skar wanted to be that Senator. It was not going well.

 _"N_ _ųkhįz-dhųskh ęrz khųr įdhęyą_ _!"_ [Not a good idea!] Groylir Thak'nel snarled. [You couldn't be elected chief of the plumbing union here on Botha'ahir.] Her dark red eyes narrowed as her tan and black fur stood on end.

"I am not planning on running _this second_ ," Azi'skar growled cautiously in Basic, sipping his caf gingerly. "Current considerations are irrelevant. I assure you; I will be everyone's favourite Bothan in less than two weeks at the Futures Symposium."

Gavorsk Lon'tannen closed his heterochromatic eyes and laughed mirthfully. His cream and blue-grey fur danced as he punched the table. The way he was laughing, it was the funniest thing anyone had ever told him.

All around the three, the waitstaff in the tapcafé started staring.

"My plan is," Azi'skar continued in Basic, "to announce my candidacy on the first day of the Future's Symposium. Then, after I am elected, I will resign as clan leader and endorse my youngest son, Zoc."

Gavorsk's fur continued dancing. Combined with his feral grin, he now looked positively devious.

Azi'skar's fur swirled nervously. He knew the look. Gavorsk may be old, but he was a prankster. _What the kriff are you going to do to me now?_

[Young lady!] Gavorsk growled in Bothese, beckoning an uncomfortable heterochromatic waiter over. [Would you vote for this Askar?]

 _Oh, that is so kriffed up!_ [That is not fair!] Azi'skar snarled in Bothese, flashing his sharp white teeth at Gavorsk.

[Uh…] she growled nervously. Her fur fell flat as she regarded Azi'skar's teeth. [Yes!] she yelped.

Gavorsk chuckled wearily.

[See?] Azi'skar muttered, then turned to the waiter, [thank you for your support. You are very kind.]

"Well, I am sure the Bothans on Tawa and Thellus will vote for you," Groylir snorted switching to Basic.

Azi'skar sighed, regaining his calm. "All I ask is an audience with your clan leaders. Can you do that for me?"

"You can meet them anytime at the Combined Clans," Gavorsk muttered.

"Yeah, in the midst of drama where the knives are out—no, that is not what I want to do." _No drama, no jokes, just me becoming a Senator._

* * *

On his way from the tapcafé on the edge of the dome, Azi'skar stopped. He noticed something he had not seen before.

A strange black sludge was on the ground, immediately beyond the dust-stained dome surface. It looked almost like a fungus of some sort.

Azi'skar knelt down on the pavement, crouching up against the transparisteel to get a better look. _"Erz yag won aynisk hahulum?!"_ [Is that some plant?!] he gasped.

" _Kiz."_ [Yep,] Gavorsk said proudly.

[This means…] Azi'skar gasped. [Your planet…] His thoughts began racing. The potential implications of Botha'ahir actually successfully terraforming were immense. Perhaps in his lifetime, the Botha'ahir Bothans would have a breathable atmosphere. Perhaps—

[—Three centuries of terraforming finally allowed one species of low-pressure plant to grow,] Groylir snorted cynically. [You Askars already grow crops on Thellus and Tawa.]

[We grow crops under the domes here,] Gavorsk growled defensively. [Just like they grow theirs on the station. It's not like they successfully grow crops in a vacuum! I must say Groylir, your cynicism disappoints me.]

In front of the odd low-pressure plant, Azi'skar noticed his amber-eyed reflection in the transparisteel staring back at him. _How do I make myself more presentable? I'm a Spacer. If I can't get support here, how am I going to compete with a candidate from Bothawui or Kothlis?_

* * *

Olanir Krit'skar

Bothawui-9

The news that she was going to be returning to Thellus in two days to help with the Futures Symposium was welcomed news. Not unexpected but welcomed, nonetheless. Managing the reconstruction of a bombed-out town was not very engaging.

As more and more of Varnek came together, there was progressively less for her, Klaes, Sanda, Q'afilip, and all of the other Askars, to do. Returning would also mean Sanda and Q'afilip would get to go back to Tawa.

"Olanir," Klaes knocked on her door unexpectedly.

"Yeah?" Olanir growled, setting down the shirt she was packing into a duffel bag.

"My father and I want to speak with you about something."

 _Zrask and Klaes, okay this is weird_.

 _"Homelo."_ [Greetings,] Olanir said as she opened the door.

Like all rooms in the town shelter, this one was solid permacrete. As the wintry environment outside became more hospitable, thanks to their new Botha'ahir dome, most of the town residents had moved out of the bunker and back to their homes. For the last week, the shelter had felt increasingly empty.

[Greetings,] Zrask said formally. [I have already spoken to Klaes about this, but he thinks we will need your support.]

[My support for what?] Olanir's fur swirled with suspicion. She knew this was not going to be a dangerous or particularly burdensome request, given how neither Klaes nor Zrask's fur swirled with guilt, but she was suspicious that both of them had come to ask something of her.

[As you know,] Klaes said, [my brother lost his Clan membership…]

Olanir snorted, her fur relaxing in relief. [Yeah! That's no problem. I can talk to Grum Azi'skar about it.] _We will have yet another Oc'skar. Fun! I wonder if Itoll will have any of his brother's business sense. Maybe he'll marry an Askar too, then we'll have even more Askars with cute little multi-coloured eyes._

[It's a bit more complicated than you know,] Zrask growled cautiously. [Something is going on which I do not fully understand.]

Olanir's fur swirled nervously again. [What type of thing?]

[Something dangerous-smelling,] Zrask muttered. [Someone has been preventing him from regaining his membership with Clan Onel. He doesn't seem particularly worried about it, but my son doesn't worry about a lot of things that should concern him.]

[Huh,] Olanir grunted. She took her hand off the doorframe. [All right, I'll explain that to Azi'skar too then if—]

[—Don't do that,] Klaes growled, [well, at least don't do that if you think it'll make it less likely for Grum Azi'skar to accept him.]

Olanir blinked incredulously. _Okay why did you tell me this then._ [All right… Well, I guess I'll see how he reacts to the request first then.]

[Thank you for all you have done,] Zrask sighed. [It means a lot.]

[It's no problem. Anything to help out a friend,] she said, putting her hand on Klaes's shoulder. [I am sure Azi'skar will not say _no_ , he might just expect something from you, Zrask.]

Zrask's fur momentarily flickered with worry. [I understand.]

* * *

Thot Ni'mai

At first, Thot scoffed at the idea of attending the Futures Symposium on Thellus. While Thrask Industries had plenty of new technology to show off, most of it was for the Bothan market.

Then he looked at the bidding catalogue and he began to drool. His breath was taken away. His fur swirled with nervous anticipation.

 _"Pam huni, zo erz zharn fefela?"_ [What is the matter honey?] Hakorsk asked, sitting down next to Thot on the couch. He put his arm around Thot's shoulders and peered down at the datapad.

Thot looked up. "Beskar!" he yipped excitedly in Basic. "There are—there are," he stammered, "there will be sixty-four suits of Mandalorian armour! Full suits!"

"So?" Hakorsk growled in annoyance.

"If I buy even one, we can strip the armour down and analyse its composition. Figure out how the Mandalorians managed to do it," Thot yipped even louder.

Hakorsk snorted. "All right. So now you want to go Thellus?"

"No, now I am going to Thellus," he retorted sternly.

"Why can't you just buy some if it's so exciting and important?" Hakorsk asked.

"The Martialists would have never sold any," Thot growled bitterly. "The Martialists worshipped that stuff. We all thought we would get access when the New Mandalorians won their stupid war, but those shtak-heads then melted down the excess armour and kept the Beskar under lock and key." He scrolled through the datapad further, skimming quickly, looking for anything else he may be interested in buying.

"Does this mean it will be dangerous?" Hakorsk asked worriedly.

"Maybe, but Azi'skar I am sure, has taken many precautions," Thot muttered dismissively, zooming in on a closeup of an Amban Phase-Pulse Blaster. _Looks interesting. Vaporising! Wow!_ He blinked, remembering he had not fully addressed his husband's question. "Still, I will definitely take Morst."

"Good," Hakorsk replied with a smile, stroking the back of his neck.

* * *

Morst Ni'skar

The news that he would now be returning to Thellus for the first time in two years made the Askar's fur dance with excitement. More importantly, his wife Asir would get to see the Askar homeland for the first time, and she would get to meet his family—her family.

Asir's red and tan fur swirled nervously as she packed her suitcase. At less than two months' pregnant, Asir did not yet visibly look pregnant. However, more importantly for Bothans, she was now aromatically pregnant.

For reasons Morst did not fully understand, the increasingly strong smell made him feel prouder and prouder every day.

 _"Erz-dolsk kora zomat."_ [Is everything all right?] Morst asked, his smile melting from his snout.

[Yeah,] Asir croaked. Her fur still swirled.

An impatient twitch of the fur flickered on Morst's snout, then spread all the way down his neck. [What's the matter?]

[Well,] Asir continued croaking slightly, her voice still not quite right after being shot in the throat with a rubber slug during the Republic attack. [I read the Bothan Diplomatic Corps advisories on Thellus. I wish the Future's Symposium were in Tawa, it seems… safer.]

Morst snorted dismissively. [It'll be all right Asir. It's my home.]

[We just don't have a spice trade here in Varnek,] Asir growled worriedly. [Reading the reports on some of the districts, it just sounds so—]

—Morst interrupted her with a tight hug. [The murder rate is lower than Corellia,] he growled into her ear. [Only a bit worse than Kuat. It's not like we are dropping down to Nar Shaddaa. Besides, we'll only be in Grav'shtarn, New Aroo, and the Agkaworza 'Yobod District.]

[All right,] Asir sighed. Her fur relaxed slightly. [I suppose I do want to meet your family anyways.]

Morst smiled contently. _Everything is going to be perfect._


	16. Ditmas Shar

Thellus Asteroid, Dressel System

Ditmas found the fact these smelly Askar Bothans had made a dead space like an asteroid liveable to be slightly magical. In contrast to the way the Mandalorians had wrecked their home-world, the Bothans had created life in such an inhospitable place.

Yesterday, he had visited the Oshra Farm District. Mushrooms, tallgrain, grape vines, and all sorts of tropical fruit lined the sphere wall in every direction. _Bothans and humans lined the walls, tilling the fields—weak humans and weak Bothans,_ Ditmas had thought with a smirk of superiority, _but there isn't room in the universe for everyone to be a warrior. Someone has to grow our food, tend to our wounds, and tend to our various other needs._

Thellus was not food independent. It still relied on imports, but its situation was far better than Mandalore's. Even with the peace-loving New Mandalorians running the planet, many of the Bio-Cubes and Bio-Domes were on the brink of starvation. Literally relying on stolen food to survive; stolen food brought in by smugglers who had previously been selling spice. Mandalore was not just 30% food dependent like Thellus.

Even with an entire moon full of arable land, it was not enough to feed everyone. _We need to farm in the domes like these Bothans are doing here. Or maybe not 'we,' but weaker beings like Shidar_ , Ditmas thought to himself.

To the Mandalorian, life from lifelessness was the only magical thing about Thellus. All of the denizens here succumbed to the sins of Arasuum—the Sloth god. These hedonistic Bothans sat around, enjoying their lives, most not even working four hours a day. Lots of them abused spice. These Bothans, including Shidar, had committed a lesser sin which Ditmas could overlook. Occasionally, he himself had succumbed to Arasuum.

As Ditmas held his thumbs together, pointer fingers pointed up, encapsulating the Mandalorian Consulate in the distance building between his fingers, he thought bitterly of the even worse Bothans. A smaller number of the denizens had not only succumbed to the sin of Arasuum, but also Hod Ha'ran—the trickster god.

This was a major source of Bothan dishonour—central to the Bothan Way. So enamoured with Hod Ha'ran was this powerful minority, that they had even managed to bankrupt Eriadu and dishonour the Tarkins! _The Bothans involved in the sins of Hod Ha'ran will have to be punished severely,_ Ditmas thought to himself. _Maybe not exterminated if they are willing to repent, but definitely beaten mercilessly._ Of course, all of this would only be possible after they had completed their mission.

The Mandalorian bombs that Ditmas liked to work with all had a blast cone that emitted from a rectangular opening. This way, Ditmas could envision the blast cones of his bombs without actually needing anything but his own two hands. Two thumbs together, pointer finger up—the shape the blast cone would emanate from.

As he stood across the street from the consulate in New Aroo, the gate guard seemed to be watching him.

Ditmas gave a friendly wave, then continued calculating his blast cones, getting the guard in the centre of his rectangle. He smirked to himself, imagining the guard getting blown away into the Consulate building behind him.

Unlike most Mandalorian terrorists, who focused primarily on eliminating as many opponents as possible, Ditmas always liked damaging as many secondary targets as possible symbolically. For instance, if he had a choice between blowing up thirty people in one police station, or blowing up twelve people in the corner of the police station, and blasting the corner of the police station outwards to damage a shrine built by some heretics, he would go with the second option.

Looking directly up, Ditmas saw the Bothan Marshalcy Field Office. He smirked as he thought to himself, _aha! A planet dweller like me would have never thought to make things blow up, as in upwards._ He laid on his back on the dirty sidewalk, capturing the Marshalcy Field Office and nearby buildings in his imaginary blast cone.

 _I can destroy this artistic monstrosity built by the heretics,_ he thought. _And, I'll send a message to those Bothans that the sins of Hod Ha'ran will no longer be tolerated. That they will accept punishment for those sins or be destroyed like the heretics. Heretic or not, what type of Mandalorian wastes his time making buildings look so artistic anyways? What use is art to a warrior? It is heresy! All art is heresy!_

Lying on the ground Ditmas adjusted his cargo pant pocket when the ornamental Beskar steel statuette of his god, Kad Ha'rangir, along with the four statuettes of his demigod partners, poked his thigh uncomfortably. He had used those statuettes a few days ago in an important ceremony—inducting the first Bothan into his clan.

While Ditmas would never admit it, Shidar joining them had been the highlight of this whole experience for him. The fact Shidar was willing to convert and join his clan even before he committed a single act of violence validated his beliefs in a way nothing else could. From what he had seen, the one time he visited the ship in the last few days, that Bothan was making herself quite useful, helping with chores and cleaning the ship. Even better, she was quickly picking up Mandalorian with her pointy little ears. A much faster learner than most human converts.

* * *

Klayer To'lya

_"Thaylalaga ko korn kikit par pam targit."_ [Maintaining visual on the target], Sergeant Grafisk Rey'tiv's voice echoed out into the comm system of the situation room. He continued in Bothese, [I say again, plum four is maintaining visual on the target.]

Klayer and a dozen Bothan Marshals sat at a long conference table. On most of them, their fur twitched with eagerness.

On the giant screen above the table, a visual of Ditmas Shar lying on the sidewalk was displayed.

[What the kriff is he doing, plum four?!] snarled Tav.

[No idea sir,] Rey'tiv muttered into the comm.

 _Uh oh,_ Klayer thought, remembering what she saw when she looked directly up from the Mandalorian Consulate a few days earlier. [Sir, I think he is looking at us,] she growled worriedly. [He is lying on the ground, looking at our field office.]

[Plum four, pan your camera up!] Tav ordered.

The camera shifted up along the interior of the sphere, finally pointing directly at the Marshalcy Field Office. [Confirmed. Target is looking at the Field Office.]

Captain Mithir Fey'lab yelped in terror, her white and black fur falling flat.

[Calm down Captain!] Tav snarled, his fur swirling more nervously than Klayer had ever seen it. [The target… he is unarmed right?]

[Plum four can confirm that sir,] Grafisk said professionally. [Do you want me to pan the camera back to target?]

[Yes, plum four,] Tav snarled impatiently. [Pan back to target!]

[You are doing great Sergeant,] Klayer growled consolingly. She gave the Colonel a disapproving look, fur on end. _You may be in charge of this place, but you don't talk to my operatives that way._

[Thank you, plum leader. Very well, panning back to target.]

The camera view went down, all the way across the cityscape on the sphere wall, all the way down to the sidewalk. Ditmas Shar was still sitting there.

[I wonder what he is doing with his hands,] Klayer muttered aloud. She held her hands in the shape of a half-rectangle, pressing her furry thumbs together, pointer fingers up. _Huh._

[Target is getting up. I say again, target is getting up,] Grafisk said.

[At least he's no longer looking at us!] Mithir sighed in relief, her fur now dancing.

[Is it possible he knows we are watching him?] Tav growled to the room.

Mithir's fur fell flat again.

[Cannot confirm or deny,] Grafisk's voice echoed. [He has no devices on him at all, although, target was fiddling with his pocket.]

[Rewind!] Tav yelped, his blonde fur flat.

A technician rewound the clip to the part where Ditmas was adjusting his pocket.

[Sir,] Klayer growled, her fur swirling nervously, [I can calculate a visual extrapolation of the objects shape…] she muttered, transferring the image to her datapad. Moving her fingers quickly, she pulled up a digital ruler against the shape, typed a two-line equation she had memorised for the volume of unknown symmetrical shapes, set the missing variable to the dimensions of the missing side, and pressed **"enter."**

A colourless outline of a small human shape appeared. Klayer sent it to the terminal. [It's only a little human!] she exclaimed with relieved excitement, her fur relaxing. _Good. He doesn't know we are watching him!_

[Why would the target have a little human in his pocket?] Tav growled incredulously.

[Sometimes sir, to make my day go by easier, I keep a little Bothan. Actually, it's a likeness of myself I carry in my pocket,] Lieutenant Dzeshka Po'trek growled proudly. She pulled a shaggy red-furred statuette of herself from her pocket, and then laid it on the table for all of the other Marshals to see. Like her, the statuette was also wearing a blue uniform.

 _Good thing the statuette's rank is Lieutenant because you're going to be a Lieutenant for a long time,_ Klayer thought to herself, scowling at the show-off.

* * *

At the end of her workday, Klayer stood on the shooting range, blasting humanoid silhouettes with a Rhiss Mark-20 pistol. She scowled in frustration as nearly half of her shots missed their marks.

 _What a kriffing waste of time,_ she thought. _When will a Marshalcy Intelligence Analyst ever need to fire a weapon? If I'm sent off into combat, it means all of our field operatives already died. It means we're already screwed._

Still, she had a marksmanship qualification to complete tomorrow morning and had become quite rusty.


	17. Shidar Zhol'skar

Thellus Asteroid, Dressel System

As the days went on with no bloodshed, in her more optimistic moments, Shidar wondered whether or not they really were here to kill anyone. They seemed certainly capable of murder, but they did not seem to be doing any murder. _Maybe they are just here to rob the Askar Credit Union. I guess I'd be all right with that._

When Shidar looked at Pul in the right light, she could convince herself she actually liked him—at least, she liked him a lot more than any other Mandalorian she met. _Out of this entire ethnic group of crazy hand-slicing humans, I like you more than around 66.6% of them, yeah. Definitely the foundation for a healthy relationship._ Staring at Pul on the bed, Shidar smirked at her own joke.

Then, for the first time in a few days, Pul whipped out a death stick, put it between his lips, and lit up.

The smirk fell from Shidar's snout. Her fur twirled unhappily.

"Oh, not this again," Pul muttered. "Sometimes, a—"

"—If you esh gonna smoke like that, I esh gonna sleep on the couch," Shidar snarled, flashing her recently brushed and whitened teeth. For a fleeting moment, her fur stood on end in rage. Then, her fur flattened, her violet eyes widened in fear. _Shtak, he might kill me!_

"Fine," Pul snorted incredulously.

Shidar blinked in shock. _Huh. He's not mad._ "All right, well… I esh gonna," she growled in a whinier voice, recovering from her momentary fear.

"Go ahead _riduur_ ," Pul yawned. "The couch is by the dining room."

Shidar laid on the bed for a moment in complete uncertainty.

Then Pul puffed a smoky burning smell into her face.

Shidar grabbed her pillow, hopped out of bed, and headed out the door. _"Jate ca."_ [Good night,] she said in Mandalorian, careful not growl either word. Whenever she did, the result was roars of laughter.

 _"Jate ca, riduur ner._ " [Good night, partner,] Pul said.

As Shidar slowly walked down the hallway her ears perked up. _Is anything else going on?_

Pul started muttering aloud in Basic. "She'll be back. Maybe not tonight, but she'll come around. That Bothan can't even go a few hours without smelling me," he chuckled to himself.

Shidar snorted. _Yeah, maybe when you're not blowing death smoke into my face you shtak-head asshole._

"If you need a blanket, spares are in the hall closet!" Pul yelled.

Shidar opened the closet and grabbed a blanket. "Thanks!"

* * *

By the time she had settled onto the couch, the smell of death stick was wafting out of Pul's room, all over the ship.

Shidar looked down and buried her snout under her sheet, scowling in rage. _This is so shtak Pul. If Ditmas were here, he'd beat you._ She finally decided to just pull the sheets over her head and get some shut eye.

After a few minutes of pondering her completely appalling marriage to a human she had met a little over a week ago, she fell asleep.

* * *

Shidar awoke to the smell of fried Gartro eggs, caf, fried potatoes, and a conversation in Mandalorian. She pulled the sheets away from her face with her ears perked up.

Pul, Ditmas, and a female human Shidar had never seen before were standing in the kitchen, talking.

Yawning, Shidar relaxed her ears. _It's too early to try and eavesdrop._

"The Bothan awakens," Ditmas said dramatically, spreading his arms wide as if to symbolise a sprouting tree. "Good _afternoon_ ," he added, emphasising that it was noon.

"Good afternoon," Shidar growled, her fur swirled nervously as she stood up in her nightwear. _Shtak. I look useless._ If there was one thing that made her feel deeply uncomfortable next to these humans, it was appearing useless.

"Hi, my name's Taekidethay," a young, silver white-haired human female said, extending a hand.

 _"Ni cuyi briikase urcir gar."_ [I am happy to meet you,] Shidar said.

"Quite a mouthful," Taekidethay chuckled, squeezing her hand firmly. She turned around and muttered something in Mandalorian. Shidar picked up the bit _"…baji kaysh joha Ma'manda'yaim."_ […teach her the language on Mandalore.]

Her ears perked up and her fur swirled with suspicion. She looked at Pul, the human whose face she could read the best.

Pul's exhaled uneasily. [I didn't teach her,] he admitted in Mandalorian.

Ditmas snorted.

Taekidethay turned around and stared into Shidar's eyes with a frown.

Shidar understood began putting the facts together. _Taekidethay doesn't want me to learn Mandalorian yet._ Her fur swirled nervously again.

"Want anything to eat, Shidar?" Pul asked in Basic.

" _Lek_." [Yes,] Shidar sighed with relief, then stammered, "I mean… _kiz_ … I mean… yeah." _Yeah, we'll go with 'yeah.'_

"You better keep your new _riduur_ on the ship," Taekidethay muttered to Pul, her jaw locked firmly.

"Oh, she is staying here, with me," Pul said reassuringly.

Shidar winced as she walked past Taekidethay. It dawned on her that there was a major weakness in her interpersonal skills. _Of course, speaking their tongue impresses all the men. Praising their prowess impresses the men. Again, the men. Only the men. It makes me more threatening to everyone else._ She sat down at the table and helped herself some cold fried Garto eggs and potatoes, deep in thought.

Her ears perked up as she ate.

Taekidethay began whispering angrily in Mandalorian. Shidar could hear every word but could not understand much. It was—

"—Stop eavesdropping," Taekidethay said with a scowl. "Sometimes, the warriors don't want the non-warriors to know what we are talking about. It doesn't concern you."

"I esh sorry," Shidar mumbled with food in her snout.

"Are you sure she's really a _schutta_?" Taekidethay asked incredulously. "These Bothans… She seems smart. Too smart—"

"—Taekidethay, look at these ears," Ditmas muttered, brushing Shidar's ears without asking.

Shidar batted her ears involuntarily in a reflex but kept her face straight.

"I don't think she can help herself," Pul said. "Can you Shidar?"

"No," Shidar growled. "I am sorry Taekidethay, I will try to stop eavesdropping."

"Don't try. You'd better stop," Taekidethay said firmly.

* * *

While Shidar was washing the dishes, the ship's airlock opened. A fourth distinct voice was now chatting away. A voice Shidar had never heard. She fought the urge to perk her ears and continued scrubbing the soapy pan.

After a few minutes, footsteps began drawing nearer. It sounded like more than four sets of feet.

"Hey Shidar, I am Warux," said a tall, clean-shaven male with jet-black hair almost the same colour as her fur.

"Nice to meet you," Shidar said, drying her hands.

"Warux would like you to meet someone," Ditmas said with a ghost of a laugh.

Shidar's fur swirled nervously. _What could be so funny?_

An ominous, grey and black painted, RA-7 protocol droid lumbered in. _"_ _Hųmęlų phąm Shįdhąr_ _."_ [Hello Shidar,] the droid growled in Bothese. His accent was flawless. There was no hint of droid-ness in his voice; his voice was not monotone, nor did it have any digital quality.

 _"_ _Hųmęlų,_ _"_ Shidar growled, her fur flat in fear. She had heard of droids being used for interrogations. _Are they going to torture me now? Make sure I am loyal? Why would Pul let them do that to me after all this? After all I've been through?_ "Pul," Shidar said in a quaky voice, "I esh scared."

"Why?" Pul asked in surprise, putting his hand on Shidar's shoulder reassuringly. "No one is going to hurt you."

Shidar's fur relaxed but began swirling nervously.

Pul ran his fingers through her loose neck fur playfully, grabbing the strands as they swirled through his fingers.

"Unlike you Shidar, QC-9 doesn't bite," Warux chuckled.

The droid looked curiously around the room, trying to understand what was happening.

Pul's ears began turning red.

 _Okay, what do they want then? Why introduce me to a droid?_ Shidar's ears raised as she stared curiously at the droid.

"Didn't know Bothans were so afraid of droids," Warux muttered worriedly. "This could complicate things… Uh…" he stopped talking when Taekidethay and Ditmas folded their arms.

"Don't worry," Ditmas said, slapping Shidar in the centre of her back. "These Bothans are afraid of just about _everything_."

Shidar staggered forward with a wince. "Uh yeah," she growled. Her fur swirled guiltily. _I feel guilty about being afraid now… That's new._

* * *

Between the bulkheads, Shidar was now fiddling with the air-filters. A few hours had gone by and it was getting late. Ditmas, Warux, and Taekidethay were probably spending the night.

Pul had taught Shidar how to change the air-filters, but she had no idea what anything else down here did. _Maybe I wouldn't have to change them if you didn't smoke on the ship_ , she thought bitterly as she pulled out a dirty brown fibrous filter. She sniffed it curiously and coughed. _Yep, death sticks and dust._

After pulling out a clean one from her satchel bag, she slid it into the opening. Her ears perked up as someone stepped down the ladder. She sniffed the air and decided it probably wasn't Pul.

"Shidar," Taekidethay whispered harshly.

Shidar's fur swirled nervously. _Kriff. What does she want?_ "Hey. Didn't expect to see you down here?" she growled in a question.

Taekidethay walked up to her holding a small personal mirror.

A ripple of confusion spread through Shidar's fur. Her snout opened slightly. _A mirror? Is she gonna tell me to look in the mirror?!_

"I don't care whether you are a _schutta_ or not," Taekidethay muttered.

Shidar snorted. _Yeah you do. It's the first kriffing thing you mention._ "What esh the mirror—"

"—At 1536 tomorrow, you are gonna stand behind the pilot's chair and hold this mirror up facing the console. The droid will probably be at it."

Shidar blinked in further confusion. Her fur swirled with suspicion. "I—"

"Bothan, do you really want what they're planning to go down?" Taekidethay whispered.

"I… I don't know," Shidar stammered, then snarled angrily, "esh a trap! You are jealous! You—"

"—shut the kriff up," Taekidethay whispered furiously, pinching her snout shut. "

Shidar exhaled angrily and grabbed at the human's hands, wincing at the pressure.

"I know you don't want to really go back to Mandalore with that asshole," Taekidethay hissed, pushing Shidar up against a wall. "I don't care if you are really an actual prostitute or with the Spynet. Either way, you are in way over your head. You are going to help me stop them, got it? It's your only way out and it's the smart thing to do. Can you be quiet?"

Shidar gave up trying to pull her hands off and gave a Spacer nod with her right hand.

"Good," Taekidethay muttered, letting go of Shidar's snout.

"A mirror… for for esh a mirror—"

"—did I say you can ask questions?" Taekidethay hissed.

 _No, but did I agree that you are my boss?_ "No," Shidar whispered, an edge of anger in her voice.

"All right. Mirror. Hold it up above the console at 1536 tomorrow. Try to keep it held up for two or three minutes. Obviously, don't let the droid see what you are doing."

"Okay," Shidar growled uncertainly. Her fur swirled nervously. "Will you get me out of here?"

Taekidethay looked her in the eyes firmly. "Maybe not me, but someone will. I promise you that."


	18. Lir Sey'les

MGX-93776

When they finally reached the observation point, the ATTE driver lowered the front legs of the beast as planned, then Sey'es, Wulf, and the Clones pained the thing with gobs of black and grey paint to make it look destroyed.

For the next three days, they slept on the slanted floor of the ATTE, ate in the ATTE, brushed their teeth in the ATTE, and on duty shifts in groups of two, looked down on the battlefield with electrobinoculars, giving warning to advancing elements; when they saw Separatist forces setting up an ambush, that is. Most of the time they sat around bored.

Sey'les yawned as another artillery barrage nailed the particle shields over Azagor City. By now, piles of destroyed Separatist tanks sat on the outside of the shields, so numerous they were visible to the naked eye in daylight.

 _Mobility operations, yay,_ Sey'les snorted to herself.

"This is Muun-2 to Skyhawk-9," Dub muttered, sitting next to Sey'les. "There are some Clankers and Kilo-Oscars setting up defensive position on First Street."

Sey'les zoomed in to where Dub was looking. A group of battle droids and Koorivar dressed in red were setting up barricades just beyond the particle shield. "This is Muun Leader, I can confirm," she growled in a bored voice.

"Very well Muun-2 and Muun Leader, we will take that under advisement."

"Ma'am, I have a theory for why we are up here," Dub said in a sage voice.

Sey'les chuckled. "You do?"

"The General doesn't like you," Dub explained.

 _More like he wants to keep Wulf and I up here, out of the way, where we can't kriff anything up_ , Sey'les scowled to herself. "Good observational skills," she muttered sarcastically.

"Thank you, ma'am. The Kaminoans enhanced the natural skills of our template," Dub said matter of factly.

 _Yeah? Like they halved your life expectancy._ Sey'les batted her ears in annoyance when a fly landed on one.

While Sey'les was bored, missed Itoll and Fojo, and felt very distrusted, she was grateful that she no longer had to work with Buzz or Tarkin. Itoll and Fojo would be back under her command soon enough and being lightyears away from Ro'val was yet another huge relief. _Now, what I wouldn't give for another vine of fresh Aldraanian grapes._ She sniffed the air curiously. _Smells like—_

A raindrop landed in the middle of her nose.

"Shtak I picked the worst shift for observation duty," Sey'les muttered bitterly under her breath. Raindrops began landing loudly on her helmet as she unzipped her assault pack and pulled out her coat.

* * *

Itoll Oc

Under the cloudy sky, amidst ruined Separatist tanks, Itoll, Fojo, and dozens of Wookiees laid prone on cracked concrete at the edge of the Separatist particle shields. Ekos and the Clones had rushed in ahead and were completely cut off from communication.

Itoll and the Wookiees were caked in miserable dried mud. He was chafing in a few spots under his uniform.

A few times, the Bothan's ears perked up when he heard Sey'les's voice giving alerts on the battlefield channel. Otherwise, he was staring grimly ahead. Several Clones had fallen, and an urban firefight was raging beyond the shield just meters away.

On the other side of the city, out of view, columns of ATTEs and TX-130 tanks were slowly pushing through the particle shield.

The signal for the Wookiees to rush in would come when the particle shield went down.

A drop of rain landed on Itoll's mud-covered hand. A patch of his dirt-caked, stuck-together fur loosened. _Sweet. Hopefully, it'll—_

—Rain began falling from the sky in earnest. A few of the Wookiees moaned.

Itoll grinned as stray blaster shots made panging noises on the surface of the shield. Unstrapping his helmet, the Bothan allowed the rain to fall directly onto his mane. After a minute or so, he dumped a refreshing helmet-puddle of rain onto his head. _Shtak that feels good._

Abruptly, the particle shield turned off.

Rider of Storms roared furiously and stood up.

[Wait ma'am!] Itoll yelped, [Ekos hasn't given us the go-ahead—]

—The Wookiee pulled him up to his feet. Stray rapid-fire blasts roared by. [CHARGE!] she yowled.

"Kriff!" Fojo yelled into the comm. "My Wookiees are charging!"

"Mine too!" Itoll yelled, jogging next to Rider of Storms. "Echo-five to Echo Actual—"

"—Echo Actual to All forces, commence Triphammer!" the Rodian Padawan yelled suddenly into the channel. "I say again, Triphammer is go!"

"All right, guess running forth without being told was the right call?" Itoll croaked nervously to no one in particular. He charged alongside the Wookiees, clumps of mud dropping from his fur onto the pavement.

Shortly after they crossed past the first row of buildings, a blastershot punched through one of the Wookiees towards the lead, Winder of Gears.

 _"SHNAYWER!"_ [SNIPER!] Itoll yelped in Shyriiwook, firing suppressing rounds up at the window.

Another Wookiee was shot in the head as she tried to pull Winder of Gears to his feet. Both collapsed into a bloody puddle.

[TO THAT WALL!] Rider of Storms roared.

Child of the Cave Beach began wailing terror. Roaring Shyriiwook obscenities.

"This is Echo-five," Itoll yelled urgently into his comm, running to cover. "We are oscar mike, taking sniper-fire from the eleventh floor of the apartment complex on the corner of 10th and Mining Guild Parade. Two down—"

—Another Wookiee went down.

"KRIFF, THREE DOWN!"

[ASK THEM TO SHOOT THE BUILDING!] Rider of Storms roared as she ran frantically for cover.

"Echo-five request fire-support on 10th and Mining Guild Parade!" Itoll yelped as he staggered against a concrete wall, he sat down, looking to his left and right to see if Fojo made it. He saw the Rodian reach the far side of the wall. _Phew._

"That's a negative Echo-five," a Clone's voice replied into the comm. "Too many civilians inside."

 _Shtak_. "Echo-five to Echo Actual, requesting further instructions—"

"—CLEAR THE BUILDING!" Ekos ordered.

"Sir, I am not sure the Wookiees know how," Itoll croaked nervously.

Rider of Storms groaned angrily.

"Well, do the best you can," Ekos said grimly. "We are still clearing buildings of our own."

Itoll chuckled to himself cynically, shaking his head. His soaked fur shifted around. _An eleven-story building… Do the best I can?_ "Roger that."

* * *

When they reached the entrance to the building, the door was gone. Itoll peered down the hall cautiously, aiming his blaster rifle ahead. "Rider of Storms, how about Fojo and I take point?"

Rider of Storms groaned neutrally.

"Are you kriffing crazy!" Fojo whispered angrily.

Standing in the rain, Itoll looked back at the dozens of Wookiees. "And… we only need…" _a hundred is way too many, five way too few… let's go with…_ "twenty of you, Rider of Storms, could you select your most-trusted ones? The rest of the Wookiees need to hold this position."

[Sure,] Rider of Storms moaned. She walked amongst the crowd, picking a few Wookiees here and there out of the bunch. A few picks resulted in roaring arguments. One Wookiee, Treader of Morning, moaned angrily as she shook her head.

"All right Fojo, we got point—"

"—I don't remember you being put in charge. We're both Ensigns," Fojo muttered.

"Do you want this to go completely sideways?" Itoll growled cautiously.

"No but—"

—Itoll held his fist up. He heard something; his ears tried perking up but squished against the interior of his helmet. Some branches in a tree overhead cracked, something metal was banging through them. _Shtak._ He looked up, then yelped "DETONATOR!"

With roars, moans, and wails, Fojo, Itoll, and two dozen Wookiees scattered from under the tree. Five seconds later, it exploded. The tree fell down parallel to the building.

"Everyone all right?!" Itoll yelled, standing up from prone position. No one looked injured. "Good. Okay, you guys are going to need to hold this position from away from the windows, got it?"

[I am staying here to make sure they remain safe,] Rider of Storms moaned. [Itoll, I am putting you in charge of the breach.]

Itoll smirked in Fojo's direction. _See?_

Fojo shook his head. _This is so not the time._

[You need to listen to the Bothan,] Rider of Storms growled. [Can you do that?]

Twenty Wookiees roared, moaned, or growled _Uma_. [Yes.]

 _"Mawyen."_ [Good,] Itoll mutterd in Shyriiwook, shaking his head in disbelief at the whole situation. [Okay, Fojo and I are going to take point. When I enter a room first, I go to the right, then Fojo goes to the left, then the next one of you goes to the right and we sweep the centre. Check your doors and corners. Like a cave, there are lots of places for potential enemies to hide. And don't just shoot anything that moves. Apparently, there are civilians.] The last part of the Bothan's speech was a bitter angry snarl. _Stupid civilians, living right under where a sniper happens to be shooting from. Ruining my whole day._

Itoll looked at the bunch under his command. _Kriff it,_ he thought as he noticed Child of the Cave Beach out of the bunch. Itoll's heterochromatic eyes flashed at the Wookiee. _Child of the Cave Beach! Really? Rider of Storms, is he really one of your best?_

* * *

The first three stories went without incident. Still, Itoll and Fojo were extremely nervous as they advanced up the stairs in the darkness. They both knew that, at some point, they would encounter another ambush.

Itoll's nightvision goggles would sometimes betray a pale glow at a corner before a mammalian being loomed into view.

Suddenly, on the fourth-floor stairwell, he saw such a glow. Itoll cautiously stepped forward after giving the signal for halt. Fojo stopped and a Wookiee bumped into his back, grumbling angrily. Fojo shushed the Wookiee furiously.

Swinging around the corner blaster-first, Itoll prodded someone with the tip of his blaster.

A Koorivar child screamed in terror.

"Shush! It's all right, sorry," Itoll growled consolingly, lifting his goggles.

The child was bolting away as fast as he good. Itoll let him go.

A few of the Wookiees grumbled angrily.

 _Why would you stand right—never mind._ [Let's keep going,] Itoll whispered in Shyriiwook.

* * *

On the fifth-floor stairwell, Itoll and Fojo cautiously stepped up the stairs backwards. There was a platform behind them, on which someone could potentially—

"—HALT!" a droid voice screamed, aiming a blaster.

Itoll and Fojo opened fire, blasting the droid to smithereens.

 _"Hua wen-magha masha?"_ [What happened sir?] Child of the Cave Beach moaned worriedly.

 _"Oin._ " [Droid,] Itoll muttered, continuing to walk up the stairs.

[Let me see!] Child of the Cave Beach roared.

[SHUT THE KRIFF UP!] Fojo whispered in a yell. [You are going to get us killed.]

[You'll walk past the droid in a second, Child of the Cave Beach,] Itoll snorted, stepping over the droid. [You'll see everything we see. Don't worry. But be quieter.]

More times than the usual, over the past few days, the Bothan had thought to himself: _This is ridiculous._ Itoll had previously experienced being sent on missions with poorly trained Clones. Compared to those Clones, these Wookiee cave-dwellers were total idiots. It was clear some of them had never fired a blaster before. _Might as well take mewing Lothcats along into battle._ It was a miracle only three of them had died so far.

* * *

Fojo and Itoll had survived one more ambush by the time they reached the 11th floor. After they shot another droid, this time, Child of the Cave Beach begged to be put on point so he could shoot something. The answer was, of course, no.

With Child of the Cave Beach curiously standing next to him, Itoll peered his head out into the hall, blaster-first and saw a stack of sandbags. His fur fell flat as he withdrew into the stairwell. A blast emitted through the doorway, into the stairwell, and cut nailed Treader of Morning in the lower left corner of her abdomen. She screamed in pain, falling down the stairs, knocking all of the Wookiees below her over.

The Wookiees moaned and yelled until five at the bottom finally managed to catch Treader of Morning.

"WOOKIEE DOWN!" Itoll yelped, taking cover near the doorframe. [Get her to the 10th floor landing! Fojo, help her and tell the Wookiees down there what to do. I'll cover you]

"SHTAK!" Fojo yelled anxiously as blasts crossed through the doorway, hitting the back wall.

"Grenade out!" Itoll yelled, throwing a detonator in the direction of the sandbags.

From the hall, seconds of panicked yelling emanated for two seconds, then an explosion.

"GO, GO, GO!" he yelled to Fojo, peering out into the hall again.

Fojo ran down the stairwell behind him.

Itoll and Child of the Caves stepped forward out of the doorframe into the smoky hall.

At the end, a door popped open. The glowing horn of a Koorivar lit up in the infrared first.

Itoll aimed his blaster squarely at it.

Then a blaster came out.

Itoll opened fire. A male voice screamed, shot in the arm.

[My blaster won't work sir! It's broken!] moaned Child of the Cave Beach worriedly.

Ignoring him, Itoll stepped up to the sandbag and began kicking the blasters away from all of the down Koorivars. They looked dead, but it was better to be safe.

"I know you're injured!" Itoll yelled, echoing down the hall, aiming his blaster towards the doorway. "Surrender and we'll treat your injuries and—"

"—Why Bothan? So you can infect me like Ohma D'un!" a gravelly voice yelled.

 _That's stupid Separatist propaganda,_ Itoll thought. However, he said, "think about it. If I were really infected, your whole planet would be dead already anyways, right? That thing infects everything."

For thirty seconds, whispers barely audible to the Bothan had a hushed conversation. Itoll lifted his helmet slightly, allowing his ears to perk up a bit.

The gravelly voice finally chuckled bitterly. "Good point. Fine, we're surrendering. We are coming out—"

"—No, you are staying where you are," Itoll snarled. "You are going to push your weapons to the door and lay on the ground."

[My blaster,] Child of the Cave Beach moaned. [Sir, it won't—]

[—Enough!] Itoll snarled. [Follow me and stay quiet. How many handcuffs did you bring?]

 _Ah ah._ [Two,] moaned Child of Cave Beach, pointing to his belt.

[Good, I have three. I'd be surprised if there were more than five.]

"You can speak Shyriiwook? That's weird," the Koorivar groaned. "All right, we are sliding our blasters out the door."

Three blaster pistols slid through the door into the hall.

Itoll walked towards the door, then he stopped. His fur swirled with suspicion. "ALL OF THEM!" he snarled furiously. "I think you have a kriffing sniper rifle! If I come in there, and there's a sniper rifle—"

—A sniper rifle was carelessly thrown through the doorway. It hit the wall then clattered to the floor.

"Okay, I am coming in. Any tricks, and I promise you won't live to regret it."

Looking cautiously to the left, Itoll could see nothing suspicious from the door across the hall. He sniffed the air fruitlessly and smelled Koorivar, food, and concrete. _Knew that._

Drawing his blaster, he peered into the doorway, then stepped into the room to the right, peering to the left. As promised, three Koorivars were laying on the ground. One of them had torn fabric on his arm. "Stay down," he growled as he lifted up his nightvision goggles.

In the dim light, he could see all of the Koorivar were dressed in goofy-looking yellow and red armour. _Great. Fusiliers who can probably kill me in hand to hand combat._ "All right, clear!" Itoll growled nervously.

Child of Caves entered the room moaning once more.

[Okay,] Itoll growled in Shyriiwook. [We are going to handcuff them, and hopefully the others will be able to help.] As he handcuffed the injured Fusilier, he spoke into his comm in Shyriiwook. [We have taken three prisoners and cleared the hallway of the 11th floor. There are still many rooms that need to be cleared. How is Treader of Morning doing?]

[Ah, she's doing all right,] Fojo said. [She'll make it.]

One of the Koorivars muttered under his breath, _praying,_ Itoll suspected. The injured one looked up stoically, and the third looked defiant.

"Are you in charge of a battalion of Wookiees?!" one of the Koorivar scoffed as she sat up.

"STAY THE KRIFF DOWN!" Itoll yelped, aiming his blaster at her.

She laid back down with a sigh.

"Names and ranks, now," Itoll snarled once he was content with their cooperation.

"I am Subcommander Jaron Enom," the injured one muttered.

"Sergeant Gyrala Wistari," the female sighed.

"Private Hykizen Klari," the final Koorivar groaned. "I cannot believe we just surrendered to a Bothan."

"Oh, I am sorry," Itoll snarled with human sarcasm he had picked up. "Would you rather I be a Wookiee or a Clone?" _No, no! They're trying to distract me._

"Okay let's get up," he growled, pulling Private Klari to his feet.

[My gun!] Child of the Cave Beach moaned again, brandishing his bowcaster. [It won't shoot sir. It won't shoot!]

Itoll snorted when he saw the problem. The safety was on. _Do I want Child of the Cave Beach to be able to shoot? No._ [I don't know what the problem is. We'll have to get it checked out later, all right?] His fur swirled guiltily.

[Okay sir,] Child of the Cave Beach whined sadly.

* * *

As they continued walking down the stairs, the handcuffed Koorivar spoke to each other in Koorivar. Their clusters of sibilants running into clustered mess of things like: " _kashja dza pshchowa shazishch tshasha wikin."_ Itoll's ears were perked up, but he could not make parse a single word except maybe _wikin_. _Weekend,_ the Bothan suspected it meant. _No, that's crazy._

[Sir, I cannot believe you are keeping them alive,] Child of the Cave Beach muttered bitterly, his footsteps and moans echoing loudly. [They killed—]

[—Kid. That is not how it works,] Itoll snarled. [If you just kill prisoners in revenge, it gives them an incentive to fight you to the death. You lose more friends that way.]

[Well, still,] Treader of Morning moaned, grimacing as she massaged the bandage on her abdomen. [I would like to shoot their limbs.]

[Don't play with your bandage!] Fojo roared.

[Treader of Morning, you are not to harm any of them. They are uniformed prisoners of the Galactic Republic. Wearing stupid-looking uniforms yes, but uniformed. Next time, don't stand in the doorway.]

Fojo snorted.

[I am sorry sir,] Treader of Morning moaned. [Still though, sir, I think these Koorivars owe you a life debt. We would have killed them.]

 _No, you would have all been massacred by them if it weren't for me and Fojo_. _It would have simply been a Wookiee massacre._ _They would have lived on, at least until Clones or Jedi decided to come down on them._

"What are you talking about?" Subcommander Enom asked.

"Oh, nothing," Itoll growled with a feral mischievous grin. "Just, apparently, you all owe me a life debt or something."

"Superstitious walking carpet—"

"—I would strongly advise not insulting the Wookiees," Fojo interrupted pointedly.

Itoll snorted as he stepped over the wreckage of one of the droids. _I bet the Wookiees wouldn't have made it past level five. Even if they got this far, Child of the Cave Beach has his safety on. He still has his safety on._

At this point, Itoll wished Fojo spoke Bothese so he could tell him all about how much of a kriff-up Child of the Cave Beach really was.


End file.
